


Welcome to the snake pit (Year 1)

by Sleepypandaduke



Series: Angelo Potter and the Snakes [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Slytherins, Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Rivalry, Harry Potter Has a Twin, Hogwarts First Year, Hogwarts House Sorting Ceremony, Hufflepuff & Slytherin Inter-House Friendships, I love them all, Loss of Parent(s), Muggle Technology, Muggle-born Culture, My First AO3 Post, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Protective Siblings, Protective Slytherins, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Ron Weasley Bashing, Self Confidence Issues, Sirius Black Free from Azkaban, Slytherin Common Room, Slytherin Pride, Touch-Starved, Twins, Verbal Humiliation, but with he/him pronouns, it’s Angelo he’s pretty much a genderfuck, most of them are dorks, no beta we die like men, snake pet, they are children - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22067128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepypandaduke/pseuds/Sleepypandaduke
Summary: Angelo Potter, a half blood wizard with a disposition that screamed of fear. Between his stunted social skills and his generally submissive nature he seems so easy to pick on. That's how it was for years, until a half giant showed him the world of his parents, and as he also unmasks a secret about himself! Welcome, dear Angelo, To the Snakepit!!*I SUGGEST SKIPPING THE FIRST CHAPTER!*
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Male Character(s), Harry Potter & Original Male Character(s), Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin (implied)
Series: Angelo Potter and the Snakes [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891723
Comments: 1
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Kinda forgot to mention this but Harry and Angelo are mixed race in this, got a problem with it? Don’t read.*

Nearly ten years had passed since the Dursleys had woken up to find their nephews on the front porch, but Privet had barely changed. The sun rose on the same tidy front gardens and lit up the brass number four on the Dursleys’ front door; it crept into their living room, which was almost exactly the same as it had been on the night when Mr. Dursley had seen that fateful news report about the owls. Only the photographs on the mantelpiece really showed how much time had passed. Ten years ago, there had been lots of pictures of what looked like a large pink beach ball wearing different-colored bonnets — but Dudley Dursley was no longer a baby, and now the photographs showed a large blond boy riding his first bicycle, on a carousel at the fair, playing a computer game with his father, being hugged and kissed by his mother. 

Angelo stepped out of his room to go to the bathroom. It was Dudley’s birthday, not too far off from his own. After taking a shower, he stared at his naked self in the mirror. That skinny waist, and flat stomach? Yeah not exactly something he planned. 

When he was dressed he went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all Dudley’s birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention the second television and the racing bike. Exactly why Dudley wanted a racing bike was a mystery to me, as Dudley was very fat and hated exercise — unless of course it involved punching somebody. Dudley’s favorite punching bag was Harry, but he couldn’t often catch him. Harry didn’t look it, but he was very fast. So was Angelo.

Perhaps it had something to do with his small and weak stomach, or maybe him ignoring any food until he was starving (and he really didn’t feel it for days) but Angelo was short and skinny for his age. His emerald green eyes complemented honey brown skin that was underneath freckles that mapped out the stars. But the thing that stood out over all that, was his long, wavy, bright red hair. One of the things Angelo adored about his appearance was a very thin scar on the right side of his neck that was shaped like a lightning storm dancing across the sky. For all he knew he had it since the day he was born.

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harry was turning over the bacon.

“Comb your hair!” he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

About once a week, Uncle Vernon looked over the top of his newspaper and shouted that Harry needed a haircut. He ignored Angelo’s because he took care of it. Harry must have had more haircuts than the rest of the boys in his class put together, but it made no difference, his jet black hair simply grew that way — all over the place. 

The only thing that marked Harry and Angelo as twins were their bright green eyes, and even those weren’t the same shape. Harry has almond eyes, and Angelo’s eyes were more cat like in appearance.

Angelo has finished his chores by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Dudley looked a lot like Uncle Vernon. He had a large pink face, not much neck, small, watery blue eyes, and thick blond hair that lay smoothly on his thick, fat head. 

Harry put the plates of egg and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn’t much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

“Thirty-six,” he said, looking up at his mother and father. “That’s two less than last year.”

“Darling, you haven’t counted Auntie Marge’s present, see, it’s here under this big one from Mummy and Daddy.” Angelo gagged at the names.

“All right, thirty-seven then,” said Dudley, going red in the face. Harry and Angelo, who could both see a huge Dudley tantrum coming on, began wolfing down bacon as fast as possible in case Dudley turned the table over again. Aunt Petunia obviously saw danger too, because she rushed to say, “And we’ll buy you another two presents while we’re out today. How’s that, popkin? Two more presents. Is that all right”

Dudley thought for a moment. It looked like hard work. Finally he said slowly, “So I’ll have thirty… thirty…”

“Thirty-nine,” Angelo mumbled.

“Oh.” Dudley sat down heavily and grabbed the nearest parcel. “All right then.”

Uncle Vernon chuckled.

“Little tyke wants his money’s worth, just like his father. ’Atta boy, Dudley!” He ruffled Dudley’s hair.

At that moment the telephone rang and Aunt Petunia went to answer it while Harry and Uncle Vernon watched Dudley unwrap the racing bike, a video camera, a remote control airplane, sixteen new computer games, and a VCR. Angelo had moved to the stairs to type on his phone. It was an iPhone 6 that one of his best friends, Andrionka, had given him. Dudley was ripping the paper off a gold wristwatch when Aunt Petunia came back,looking both angry and worried.

“Bad news, Vernon,” she said. “Mrs. Figg’s broke her leg. She can’t take him.” She jerked her head in Harry’s direction.

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror, but Angelo could tell that Harry’s heart had given a leap. Every year on Dudley’s birthday, his parents took him and a friend out for the day, to adventure parks, hamburger restaurants, or the movies. Most of the time they let Angelo stay home, where he could either invite a friend or this year, text. Every now and then they took Angelo along. Every year, Harry was left behind with Mrs. Figg, a mad old lady who lived two streets away. “I hate it there! The whole house smells like cabbage and Mrs. Figg makes me look at photographs of all the cats she’s ever owned,” Harry had complained last year.

“Now what?” said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harry as though he’d planned this.

“We could phone Marge,” Uncle Vernon suggested.

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy.”

The Dursleys often spoke about Harry and Angelo like this, as though they weren’t there — or rather, as though he was something very nasty that couldn’t understand them, like a slug.

“What about what’s-her-name, your friend — Yvonne?”

“On vacation in Majorca,” snapped Aunt Petunia

“You could just leave me here,” Harry put in hopefully.

Aunt Petunia looked as though she’d just swallowed a lemon.

Angelo looked at him like he had grown 2 heads.

“And come back and find the house in ruins?” she snarled.

“I won’t blow up the house,” said Harry, but they weren’t listening.

“I suppose we could take him to the zoo,” said Aunt Petunia slowly, “… and leave him in the car…”

“That car’s new, he’s not sitting in it alone…”

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn’t really crying — it had been years since he’d really cried — but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

“Dinky Duddydums, don’t cry, Mummy won’t let him spoil your special day!” she cried, flinging her arms around him.

“I… don’t… want… him… t-t-to come!” Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. “He always sp-spoils everything!” He shot Harry a nasty grin through the gap in his mother’s arms.

Just then, the doorbell rang — “Oh, good Lord, they’re here!” said Aunt Petunia frantically — and a moment later, Dudley’s best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. He was usually the one who held people’s arms behind their backs while Dudley hit them. Dudley stopped pretending to cry at once.

Quite frankly, Angelo was scared of them, so he left Harry to them.

Half an hour later, Neither of the twins believe their luck, was sitting in the back of the Dursleys’ car with Piers and Dudley, on the way to the zoo for the first time in his life. Their aunt and uncle hadn’t been able to think of anything else to do with him, but before they’d left, Uncle Vernon had taken Harry aside. Angelo, being a curious bug, had watched them.

“I’m warning you,” he had said, putting his large purple face right up close to Harry’s, “I’m warning you now, boy — any funny business, anything at all — and you’ll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas.” 

“I’m not going to do anything,” said Harry, “honestly…”

But Uncle Vernon didn’t believe him. No one ever did.

The problem was, strange things often happened around the twins and it was just no good telling the Dursleys they didn’t make them happen.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harry coming back from the barbers looking as though he hadn’t been at all, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut his hair so short he was almost bald except for his bangs, which she left “to hide that horrible scar.” Dudley had laughed himself silly at Harry, who spent a sleepless night imagining school the next day, where he was already laughed at for his baggy clothes and taped glasses. Next morning, however, Harry had gotten up to find his hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. He had been given a week in his cupboard for this, even though he had tried to explain that he couldn’t explain how it had grown back so quickly.

Angelo often snuck into the tiny place to keep his brother company.

Another time, Aunt Petunia had been trying to force him into a revolting old sweater of Dudley’s (brown with orange puff balls). The harder she tried to pull it over his head, the smaller it seemed to become, until finally it might have fitted a hand puppet, but certainly wouldn’t fit Harry. Aunt Petunia had decided it must have shrunk in the wash and, to both if their great relief, Harry wasn’t punished.

On the other hand, Angelo’d gotten into terrible trouble for being found on the roof of the school kitchens. Dudley’s gang had been chasing him when, as much to Angie’s surprise as anyone else’s, there he was sitting on the chimney. The Dursleys had received a very angry letter from the headmistress telling them Angelo had been climbing school buildings. But all he’d tried to do (as he shouted at Uncle Vernon through the locked door of his room) was jump behind the big trash cans outside the kitchen doors. It didn’t matter that they’d locked him in, Angelo snuck out the window.

While he drove, Uncle Vernon complained to Aunt Petunia. He liked to complain about things: people at work, Harry, the council, Harry, the bank, and Harry were just a few of his favorite subjects. It got on Angelo’s nerves that they treated his brother this way while he got a free pass. This morning, motorcycles were the complaint.

“… roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums,” he said, as a motorcycle overtook them.

“I had a dream about a motorcycle,” said Harry, remembering suddenly. “It was flying.”

Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned right around in his seat and yelled at Harry, his face like a gigantic beet with a mustache: “MOTORCYCLES DON’T FLY!”

Dudley and Piers sniggered. Angelo pressed himself into his seat, visibly distressed.

“I know they don’t,” said Harry. “It was only a dream.”

-Angelo’s perspective-

This Saturday was way too bright and the zoo was crowded with families. Two things I hate, brightness and loud noise. Dudley and Piers got large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. The smiling lady at the kiosk asked Harry and I what we wanted. They bought him a cheap lemon ice pop, and me a cheap bubblegum cup. It wasn’t bad either. (HA! Take that Dursleys!)

Harry was careful to walk a little way apart from the Dursleys, likely so that Dudley and Piers wouldn’t fall back on their favorite hobby of hitting him. We ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn’t have enough ice cream on top, “brat,” I thought, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and I let Harry finish the first.

“This is too good to last” I thought while walking to the reptile house.

It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes, which I absolutely adore, were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. 

Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. My idiot cousin quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon’s car and crushed it into a trash can — but at the moment it didn’t look in the mood. In fact, it was fast asleep.

Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

“Make it move,” he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn’t budge. I crossed my arms. “Leave the poor thing alone!” I wanted to say.

“Do it again,” Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass smartly with his knuckles, but the snake just snoozed on.

“This is boring,” Dudley moaned. He shuffled away. 

I moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. I wouldn’t have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself - no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. I feel bad for the thing.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were on a level with mine.

It winked.

My eyes widened, before chalking it up to my familiarity with snakes. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t. I looked back at the snake and winked, too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It had a look that said quite plainly:

“I get that all the time.”

“I know,” I murmured, though I wasn’t sure the snake could hear me. “It must be really annoying.”

The snake nodded vigorously.

I looked at one of the few other things in the enclosure.I looked at the sign.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil. 

This specimen was bred in the zoo.

“Is it nice here?”

As the snake shook its head, a deafening shout behind Me made both of us jump. “DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON’T BELIEVE WHAT IT’S DOING!”

Dudley came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

“Out of the way, you,” he said, punching me in the ribs. Surprised, I fell on the hard concrete floor. I held my bruised rib. Harry looked like he was ready to murder both of the boys. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened — one second, Piers and Dudley were leaning right up close to the glass, the next, they had leapt back with howls of horror.

I gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor’s tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. People throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exits.

As the snake slid swiftly past me, a low, hissing voice said, “Brazil, here I come… Thanksss, chica.” I was quite surprised that the snake used the correct pronouns.

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

“But the glass,” he kept saying, “where did the glass go?”

The zoo director himself made Aunt Petunia a cup of strong, sweet tea while he apologized over and over again. Piers and Dudley could only gibber. As far as we had seen, the snake hadn’t done anything except snap playfully at their heels as it passed, but by the time we were all back in Uncle Vernon’s car, Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death.

Uncle Vernon waited until Piers was safely out of the house before starting on Harry, poor Harry. He was so angry he could hardly speak. He managed to say, “Go — cupboard — stay — no meals,” before he collapsed into a chair, and Aunt Petunia had to run and get him a large brandy.

Fucking alcoholic.

My brother wouldn’t go hungry on my watch. They could pry the companionship for my own brother from my cold, dead body.

That night I lied on my bed staring at the ceiling and letting my mind wander.

I’ve lived with the Dursleys almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as I can remember, ever since we’ve been babies and our parents had died in that car crash. Every day I defy them by existing and protecting my brother. I can’t remember being in the car when my parents had died, but then again I was only 1. Sometimes, when I strain my memory, a strange vision pops into my head: an old, bearded man and a white hot flash of pain on my neck. I can’t remember my parents at all. My aunt and uncle never spoke about them, and we were forbidden to ask questions. There were no photographs of them in the house.

Sometimes, strangers in the street seem to know me. Very strange strangers they are, too. A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to me and Harry once while out shopping with Aunt Petunia and Dudley. After asking us furiously if we knew the man, Aunt Petunia had rushed us out of the shop without buying anything. A wild-looking old woman dressed all in green had waved merrily at me once on a bus. A bald man in a very long purple coat had actually shaken Harry's hand and kissed mine in the street the other day and then walked away without a word. The weirdest thing about all these people was the way they seemed to vanish the second I tried to get a closer look.

My mind drifted back to my brother. Our personalities are way too different. I’m sneaky and calm and think things over, while Harry is explosive and only seems to do. 

At school, Harry has no one but his bullies. At school everyone ignores me. Everybody knew that Dudley’s gang hated that odd Harry Potter in his baggy old clothes and broken glasses, and nobody liked to disagree with Dudley’s gang.

I can’t blame them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so after working on this for months, I accidentally deleted it and reworked it. This time it only took me about an hour and a half. Yaaayyy


	2. Chapter 2

-Angelo’s POV-

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor earned Harry his longest-ever punishment, or at least the longest that I’ve had to sneak around at midnight to get him food or anything he might need. By the time he was allowed out of his cupboard again, the summer holidays had started. 

Dudley has already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote control airplane, and, first time out on his racing bike, knocked down poor Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Even though we were both glad school was over, there was no escaping Dudley’s gang, who visited the house every single day. Piers, Dennis, Malcolm, and Gordon were all big and stupid, but as Dudley was the biggest and stupidest of the lot, he was the leader. The rest of them were all quite happy to join in Dudley’s favorite sport: Harry Hunting.

This was why we spent as much time as possible out of the house, wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where there was a tiny ray of hope. When September came we’d be going off to secondary school and, for the first time in our lives, we won’t be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon’s old private school, Smeltings. Piers Polkiss was going there too. Harry and I, on the other hand, were going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harry at Mrs. Figg’s. Mrs. Figg wasn’t as bad as usual. It turned out she’d broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and she didn’t seem quite as fond of them as before.  
According to Harry, she let him watch tv and gave him some chocolate cake, that, “tasted like she had it for years.”

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room for the family in his brand-new uniform. Smeltings’ boys wore maroon tailcoats, orange knickerbockers, and flat straw hats called boaters. (When I’d seen it, I flat out said that it looked stupid, which ended with me having a red mark on my cheek from ‘uncle’ Vernon slapping me.) They also carried knobbly sticks, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren’t looking. This was supposed to be good training for later life.

As he looked at Dudley in his new knickerbockers, Uncle Vernon said gruffly that it was the proudest moment of his life. Aunt Petunia burst into tears and said she couldn’t believe it was her “Ickle Dudleykins,” he looked so “handsome” and “grown-up.” Neither of us trusted ourselves to speak.

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when I went in for breakfast. It seemed to be coming from a large metal tub in the sink. The tub was full of what looked like dirty rags swimming in gray water.

“What’s this?” I asked. Her lips tightened as they always did if he dared to ask a question.

“Harry’s new school uniform,” she said.

I looked in the bowl again.

“Ew. What are they made out of?”

“I’m dyeing some of Dudley’s old clothes gray for you. It’ll look like everyone else’s when I’ve finished.” Snapped Aunt Petunia.

“Are you sure?” I asked, head tilted. “It look gross.” Aunt Petunia gave me a look and I went to sit down.

Dudley and Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell from Harry’s new uniform. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table. This, combined with the smell that made my head spin, made my heart beat rapidly, and my breath short.

We heard the click of the mail slot and flop of letters on the doormat.

“Get the mail, Dudley,” said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

“Make Angelo get it.”

I stood up and practically ran to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon’s sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and — 2 letters for Harry and I.

I picked it up and stared at it. It wasn’t addressed by Andrionka. Slowly I picked it up and read it.

Mr. A. Potter

The Cupboard under the Stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald-green ink. There was no stamp.

Turning the envelope over, brows furrowed, I saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H.

“Hurry up, boy!” shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. “What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?” He chuckled at his own joke. I shoved my letter into my hoodie pocket.

I walked- well more like stumbled- back to the kitchen, and handed Uncle Vernon the bill, and the postcard, gave Harry his letter, sat down, and slowly began to eat the things that didn’t bother my toungue. 

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard, I handed Harry his letter.

“Marge’s ill,” he informed Aunt Petunia. “Ate a funny whelk…”

“Dad!” said Dudley suddenly. “Dad, Harry’s got something!”

Harry was on the point of unfolding his letter, which was written on the same heavy parchment as the envelope, when it was jerked sharply out of his hand by Uncle Vernon.

“That’s mine!” said Harry, trying to snatch it back. I stood up as well, about to defend my brother. A snarl spread across my darkly colored, and somewhat plump lips. I don’t understand some things, but the distress in his voice was apparent.

“Who’d be writing to you?” sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn’t stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

“P-P-Petunia!” he gasped. I snorted.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. I hung back with my hands close to my chest. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

“Vernon! Oh my goodness — Vernon!”

They stared at each other, seeming to have forgotten that us kids were still in the room. Dudley wasn’t used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

“I want to read that letter,” he said loudly.

“I want to read it,” said Harry furiously, “it’s mine.”

“Get out, all of you,” croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harry started to move but my feet stayed planted in the ground.

“GIVE HIM HIS LETTER, NOW!” I screeched.

Everybody paused and stared at me. The quiet, snarky, redhead finally reached his limit.

Vernon was the first one to speak. “OUT!” He yelled, and he took Dudley and I by the scruffs of their necks and threw us -threw us- into the hall, slamming the kitchen door behind them. Harry and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harry, his glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on his stomach to listen at the crack between door and floor. I stayed laid on the carpet, rocking and twitching my numb hands.

“Vernon,” Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, “look at the address — how could they possibly know where he sleeps? You don’t think they’re watching the house?”

“Watching — spying — might be following us,” muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

“But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don’t want —”

Harry could see Uncle Vernon’s shiny black shoes pacing up and down the kitchen.

“No,” he said finally. “No, we’ll ignore it. If they don’t get an answer… Yes, that’s best… we won’t do anything…”

“But —”

“I’m not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn’t we swear when we took them in we’d stamp out that dangerous nonsense?”

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he’d never done before; he visited Harry in his cupboard. I watched from the sidelines.

“Where’s my letter?” said Harry, the moment Uncle Vernon had squeezed through the door. “Who’s writing to me?”

“No one. It was addressed to you by mistake,” said Uncle Vernon shortly. “I have burned it.”

“It was not a mistake,” said Harry angrily, “it had my cupboard on it.”

“SILENCE!” yelled Uncle Vernon, and I jumped back. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

“Er — yes, Harry — about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you’re really getting a bit big for it… we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley’s second bedroom.

“Why?” said Harry.

“Don’t ask questions!” snapped his uncle. “Take this stuff upstairs, now.”

The Dursleys’ house had five bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon’s sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, one for Myself, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn’t fit into his first bedroom. 

“Need help?” I whispered. Harry shook his head before heading upstairs. We sat down on the bed and Harry stared around him. Nearly everything in here was broken. The month-old video camera was lying on top of a small, working tank Dudley had once driven over the next door neighbor’s dog; in the corner was Dudley’s first-ever television set, which he’d put his foot through when his favorite program had been canceled; there was a large birdcage, which had once held a parrot that Dudley had swapped at school for a real air rifle, which was up on a shelf with the end all bent because Dudley had sat on it. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that looked as though they’d never been touched.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother, “I don’t want him in there… I need that room… make him get out…”

Harry sighed and stretched out on the bed. Harry mumbled “I bet you’re more weird than me.” 

Harry’s color was a soft lime green, at least right now. Aunt Petunia’s was always an angry red, and Uncle Vernon’s was usually dark grey. Dudley was a blinding, threatening bright yellow.

I returned to my room and silently cuddled with a soft blanket, running my hands and arms around the fluffy fabric. This helped me calm down after such a bad day. I stood up and grabbed a few of my scented items, (a notebook, my softest blanket, and big plushie) and started to make my bed around these items. I curled around the fluffy and scented mess of my bed and slept.

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He’d screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof (poor thing), and he still didn’t have his room back. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly, storm cloud gray-blue.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to us, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging things with his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, “There’s another one! ‘Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive —’”

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall, Harry right behind him. I hung back in my seat, too tired and hating the sudden eruption of noise. Meanwhile Uncle Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to get the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Harry had grabbed Uncle Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick, Uncle Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Harry’s letter clutched in his hand.

“Go to your cupboard — I mean, your bedroom,” he wheezed at Harry. “Dudley — go — just go.”

I returned to my room and collapsed on the nest that was the center around my fort. I picked up a book -well not any book, it was war and peace but still- and started reading.

I awoke to a loud noise. “AAAAARRRGH!” I covered my shoulders with my blanket and walked out of my room. I flicked the lights on to see Uncle Vernon in a sleeping bag near the front door and Harry in front of him. I walked back into my room and just listened as Uncle Vernon yelled at Harry. Halfway through, I popped up and told him, “Some people are trying to get a beauty sleep.”

Uncle Vernon didn’t go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot.

“See,” he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, “if they can’t deliver them they’ll just give up.”

“I’m not sure that’ll work, Vernon.”

“Oh, these people’s minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they’re not like you and me,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

On Friday, no less than twelve letters arrived for Harry. As they couldn’t go through the mail slot, they had been pushed under the door, slotted through the sides, and a few even forced through the small window in the downstairs bathroom. 

Either I’m not special enough for multiple letters, or they know I still have my letter.

Uncle Vernon stayed at home again. After burning all the letters, he got out a hammer and nails and boarded up the cracks around the front and back doors so no one could go out. He hummed “Tiptoe Through the Tulips” as he worked, and jumped at small noises, like me.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harry found their way into the house, rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused deliver had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

“Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?” Dudley asked Harry in amazement.

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

“No post on Sundays,” he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, “no damn letters today —”

Something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as he spoke and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace. The Dursleys and I ducked, but Harry leapt into the air trying to catch one —

“Out! OUT!”

Uncle Vernon seized Harry around the waist and threw him into the hall. I gasped and hid under the kitchen table. When Aunt Petunia and Dudley had run out with their arms over their faces, Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut. They could hear the letters still streaming into the room, bouncing off the walls and floor.

“That does it,” said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. “I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We’re going away. Just pack some clothes. No arguments!”

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. I went back to my room and grabbed a suitcase and my messenger bag. I packed my blanket, many books, soft clothes, my letter, pens, paper, earphones and my phone and went back downstairs to go into the car.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn’t dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

“Shake ’em off… shake ’em off,” he would mutter whenever he did this.

They didn’t stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall Dudley was howling. He’d never had such a bad day in his life. He was hungry, he’d missed five television programs he’d wanted to see, and he’d never gone so long without blowing up an alien on his computer.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Dudley,Harry and I shared a room with twin beds and damp, musty sheets. Dudley snored but I stayed awake, sitting on the windowsill, staring down at the lights of passing cars and wondering…

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. I didn’t bother with anything besides the food I packed myself, aka granola bars and unmade oatmeal. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

“’Scuse me, but is one of you Mr. H. Potter? Only I got about an ’undred of these at the front desk.”

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

Mr. H. Potter

Room 17

Railview Hotel

Cokeworth

Harry made a grab for the letter but Uncle Vernon knocked his hand out of the way. The woman stared.

“I’ll take them,” said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

“Wouldn’t it be better just to go home, dear?” Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to hear her. Exactly what he was looking for, none of them knew. He drove them into the middle of a forest, got out, looked around, shook his head, got back in the car, and off they went again. The same thing happened in the middle of a plowed field, halfway across a suspension bridge, and at the top of a multilevel parking garage.

“Daddy’s gone mad, hasn’t he?” Dudley asked Aunt Petunia dully late that afternoon. Uncle Vernon had parked at the coast, locked them all inside the car, and disappeared.

It started to rain. Great drops beat on the roof of the car. Dudley sniveled. I shrank back. I hate cold wet.

“It’s Monday,” he told his mother. “The Great Humberto’s on tonight. I want to stay somewhere with a television.”

Monday. This reminded me of something. If it was Monday — and you could usually count on Dudley to know the days the week, because of television — then tomorrow, Tuesday, was Harry and I’s eleventh birthday. Of course, birthdays were never exactly fun — last year, the Dursleys had given him some sewing thread and a pair of long black socks. Still, you weren’t eleven every day.

Uncle Vernon was back and he was smiling. He was also carrying a long, thin package and didn’t answer Aunt Petunia when she asked what he’d bought.

“Found the perfect place!” he said. “Come on! Everyone out!”

It was very cold outside the car. Uncle Vernon was pointing at what looked like a large rock way out at sea. Perched on top of the rock was the most miserable little shack you could imagine. One thing was certain, there was no television in there.

“Storm forecast for tonight!” said Uncle Vernon gleefully, clapping his hands together. “And this gentleman’s kindly agreed to lend us his boat!”

A toothless old man came ambling up to them, pointing, with a rather wicked grin, at an old rowboat bobbing in the iron-gray water below them.

“I’ve already got us some rations,” said Uncle Vernon, “so all aboard!”

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. I twitched my fingers. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken-down house.

The inside was horrible; it smelled strongly of seaweed, the wind whistled through the gaps in the wooden walls, and the fireplace was damp and empty. There were only two rooms.

Uncle Vernon’s rations turned out to be a bag of chips each and four bananas. He tried to start a fire but the empty chip bags just smoked and shriveled up.

“Could do with some of those letters now, eh?” he said cheerfully.

He was in a very good mood. Obviously he thought nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the filthy windows. Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa. She and Uncle Vernon went off to the lumpy bed next door, and Harry was left to find the softest bit of floor he could and to curl up under the thinnest, most ragged blanket.

I told him he didn’t have to do that. I held up my soft blanket for him to sleep under. We laid back to back.

The storm raged more and more ferociously as the night went on. I couldn’t sleep. Dudley’s snores were drowned by the low rolls of thunder that started near midnight. The lighted dial of Dudley’s watch, which was dangling over the edge of the sofa on his fat wrist, told me I’d be eleven in ten minutes’ time. We lay and watched our birthday tick nearer, wondering if the Dursleys would remember at all, wondering where the letter writer was now.

Five minutes to go, something creaked outside. I hope the roof wasn’t going to fall in, although it might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he’d be able to steal one for Harry somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And (two minutes to go) what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? There were too many noises to pinpoint one, but Harry didn’t seemed bothered by any of them.

One minute to go and we’d be eleven. Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… nine — maybe he’d wake Dudley up, just to annoy him — three… two… one…

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and I felt Harry brush up against me as we both sat bolt upright, staring at the door. Someone was outside, knocking to come in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hagrid bursts through the door, scares Angelo, and mentions door mice in his coat. Poor Angelo must be nearly having a heart attack during all of this!

-Angelo’s POV-

BOOM. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake. I covered one of my ears and sheltered the other.

"Where's the cannon?" he said stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands - now they knew what had been in the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you -- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then --

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor. I yanked the cover off of Harry and covered my tiny, folded body with the blanket. I slowly peeked my eyes out from the blanket shield.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair. Tears pricked my eyes in fear.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all. 

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey..."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching, terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An' here's Harry!" said the giant.

Harry looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," said the giant. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes. And Angelo! Why, yer a spittin’ image of yer mother!"

Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" he said. "You are breaking and entering!" I slowly eased out of my blanket hold.

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway -- Harry, Angelo," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harry opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Twins written on it in green icing. It was clearly not a texture that I’d enjoy.

I looked up at the giant. "Who are you?" He asked. Harry pushed me slightly and mouthed, “That’s rude Angie!”

The giant chuckled.

"True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harry’s whole arm. He reached for mine, but I shook my head.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind." I stared at him, very confused.

His eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled chip bags in it and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later, there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and warmth wash over us like if sunk into a hot bath.

The giant sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking all sorts of things out of the pockets of his coat: a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid, by the smell of it whiskey, that he took a swig from before starting to make tea. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harry and I. I poked at them for a few seconds before deciding that I could deal with the texture. Finally, as nobody seemed about to explain anything, I managed a; "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts -- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course.

"Er -- no," I mumbled.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," I said quickly, not wanting to see him mad.

"Sorry ?" barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew Harry wasn’t gettin' his letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" asked Harry.

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" I scrambled to the back of the room, sheltering my ears, leaving some space to hear what happened around me.

He had leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean ter tell me," he growled at the Dursleys, "that these boys -- these boys! -- knows nothin' abou' -- about ANYTHING?"

I thought this was going a bit far. I’m an all “A” student in my class!

"I know most things!" I exclaimed. "I can do math and science and most things. I’m in double advanced everything!"

But Hagrid simply waved his hand and said, "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked as if he was about to explode.

"DURSLEY!" he boomed.

Uncle Vernon, who had gone very pale, whispered something that sounded like "Mimblewimble." Hagrid stared wildly at Harry.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My -- my mom and dad weren't famous, were they?" Harry asked, taking the lead in this conversation.

"Yeh don' know... yeh don' know... " Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry and I with a bewildered stare.

"Yeh don' know what yeh are ?" he said finally.

Uncle Vernon suddenly found his voice.

"Stop!" he commanded. "Stop right there, sir! I forbid you to tell the boy anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke, his every syllable trembled with rage.

"You never told them? Never told them what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer ‘em? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from them all these years?"

"Kept what from us?" said Harry eagerly.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

Aunt Petunia gave a gasp of horror.

"Ah, go boil yer heads, both of yeh," said Hagrid. "Harry, Angelo-- yer wizards."

There was silence inside the hut. Only the sea and the whistling wind could be heard.

"We’re what ?" gasped Harry.

"Wizards, o' course," said Hagrid, sitting back down on the sofa, which groaned and sank even lower, "an' a thumpin' good 'un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, addressed in emerald green to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. He also handed me mine, too Mr. A. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea. I pulled out the letter and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

Questions came and went inside my head and I couldn't decide what to ask first. After a few moments Harry stammered, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse, and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl -- a real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl -- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harry could read upside down:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given the twins their letters.

Taking them to buy things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then he came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

"Where was I?" said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"They’re not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" I asked, “I’ve never heard that word before, and I’ve heard most words before. It doesn’t even seem like a word from a Germanic branch of languages. So what’s a muggle?”

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took them in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of them! Wizard indeed!"

"You knew?" I spoke up. "You knew I'm a -- a wizard?"

"Knew!" shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. My head snapped to her, eyes wide in fear and bewilderment. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that -- that school -- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was -- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as -- as -- abnormal -- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry had gone very white, a color that I didn’t think him to be. As soon as he found his voice he said, "Blown up? You told us they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" roared Hagrid, jumping up so angrily that the Dursleys scuttled back to their corner, as did I. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry an’ Angelo Potter not knowin' their own story when every kid in our world knows their names!"

"But why? What happened?" Harry asked urgently.

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. He looked suddenly anxious.

"I never expected this," he said, in a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don' know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh -- but someone's gotta -- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh -- mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it..."

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with -- with a person called -- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows--"

"Who?" I asked.

"Well -- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Angelo, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went... bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was..."

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" I suggested.

"Nah -- can't spell it. All right -- Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this -- this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too -- some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was gettin' himself power, all right. Dark days. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches... terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him -- an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You both were just a year old. He came ter yer house an' -- an'--"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad -- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find -- anyway...

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then -- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing -- he tried to kill you both, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? And Angelo with that mark on his neck? Those no ordinary cuts. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh -- took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even -- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except y’all, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age -- the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts -- an' you two was only a baby, an' you lived."

Something very painful was going on in my mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, he saw again the blinding flash of light, more clearly than I had ever remembered it before -- and I remembered something else, for the first time in my life: a white beard.

Hagrid was watching sadly.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot..."

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. I jumped, almost forgetting that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have got back his courage. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, boy and bug," he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cure,” I cringed back even more at the thought of physical pain, “and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion— asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types— just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

But at that moment, Hagrid leapt from the sofa and drew a battered pink umbrella from inside his coat. Pointing this at Uncle Vernon like a sword, he said, "I'm warning you, Dursley— I'm warning you— one more word..."

In danger of being speared on the end of an umbrella by a bearded giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again; he flattened himself against the wall and fell silent.

"That's better," said Hagrid, breathing heavily and sitting back down on the sofa, which this time sagged right down to the floor.

"But what happened to Vol-, sorry -- I mean, You-Know-Who?" Harry piped up.

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see... he was gettin' more an' more powerful— why'd he go?

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back.

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, twins. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on -- I dunno what it was, no one does -- but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

"Hagrid," Harry said quietly, "I think you must have made a mistake. I don't think I can be a wizard."

To his surprise, Hagrid chuckled.

"Not a wizard, eh? Never made things happen when you was scared or angry?"

Harry looked into the fire. Now I that think about it, every odd thing that had ever made his aunt and uncle furious had happened when Harry or I had been upset or angry... the very last time Dudley had hit me, I got mg revenge, without even realizing it. Hadn't I set a boa constrictor on him?

We looked back at Hagrid, Harry smiling, and saw that Hagrid was positively beaming.

"See?" said Hagrid. "Harry Potter, not a wizard -- you wait, you'll be right famous at Hogwarts, you too Angelo."

But Uncle Vernon wasn't going to give in without a fight.

"Haven't I told you their not going?" he hissed. "Their going to Stonewall High and they'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish -- spell books and wands and--"

"If they wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop them," growled Hagrid. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's sons from goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. Their name's been down ever since birth. They’re off ter the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. They'll be with youngsters of their own sort, fer a change, an' they’ll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had Albus Dumbled--"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head, "NEVER -- " he thundered, " -- INSULT -- ALBUS -- DUMBLEDORE -- IN -- FRONT -- OF -- ME!"

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley -- there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal, and the next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, I saw a curly pig's tail poking through a hole in his trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared. Pulling Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room, he cast one last terrified look at Hagrid and slammed the door behind them.

Hagrid looked down at his umbrella and stroked his beard.

"Shouldn'ta lost me temper," he said ruefully, "but it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do."

"Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts," he said. "I'm -- er -- not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff -- one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job."

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" I asked.

"Oh, well -- I was at Hogwarts meself but I -- er -- got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an' everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry and I.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' doormice in one o' the pockets."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the twins’s first trip to Diagon Alley, Angelo meets another boy that he seems to grow attached to.

Harry woke the next morning as Angelo watched the sun rise.

"It was a dream,” he heard Harry say. "I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards."

There was suddenly a loud tapping noise coming from the window.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"All right," Harry mumbled, "I'm getting up."

He sat up and Hagrid's heavy coat fell off both of the boys. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, as did Angelo. Harry went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Don't do that."

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harry loudly, making Angelo cringe. "There's an owl--"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets -- bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags... finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?" Angelo asked.

"The little bronze ones."

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then it flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Angelo was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. Clearly fascinated with them. One kind was gold, the other silver and the last- the knuts- were bronze. 

"Um -- Hagrid?" Harry said suddenly.

"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

"I haven't got any money -- and you heard Uncle Vernon last night... he won't pay for me to go and learn magic."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed--"

"They didn' keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold -- an' I wouldn' say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks ?"

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Angelo’s head snapped up, and Harry dropped the sausage he was holding. 

“How does Gringotts work?” Angelo asked.

"Fer starters, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you -- gettin' things from Gringotts -- knows he can trust me, see."

Angelo’s eyebrows creased, his question not being answered to his liking. He stood up again on slightly shaky legs, slipped on the beat up brown satchel, and keeping his head down and hands in his hoodie pockets.

"Got everythin'? Come on, then."

The twins followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harry asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew ?" Asked Angelo, his eyes sparkling.

"Yeah -- but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

They settled down in the boat, Angelo staring at the water in a slightly dazed manner.

"Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving the twins another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter -- er -- speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"

"Of course not," said Harry, and Angelo nodded. He was eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.

"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Harry asked.

"Spells -- enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high security vaults. And then yeh gotta find yer way -- Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat."

Angelo and Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. They’d learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, never having so many questions in his life.

"Ministry o' Magic messin' things up as usual," Hagrid muttered, turning the page.

"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked, before he could stop himself.

"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."

"But what does a Ministry of Magic do ?"

"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."

"Why?"

"Why? Harry, didn’t you ever learn anything in history? They burned people alive just because they thought they were witches! In America they hanged people for the same reason! And people want easy solutions for problems is whole entire reason to stay hidden."

Harry glared at his brother. 

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Passersby stared a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Harry nor Angelo couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"

"Hagrid," said Harry, panting a bit as he ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"

"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."

"You'd like one?"

"Wanted one ever since I was a kid -- here we go."

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Angelo so he could buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

"Still got yer letters?" he asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket, as did Angelo.

"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn't noticed the night before, and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL o f WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal phials

1 telescope set

1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harry wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

“Umm Hagrid?” Angelo started. “It says you can only bring an owl, cat or toad, but I have this little pet snake and I don’t wanna give her up.”

“Snake, Angelo? Well, I’m sure Dumbledore will make an exception since yeh already got ‘er”

The twins had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harry and Angelo had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks? Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up? If Angelo hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, he might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told him so far was unbelievable, Harry couldn't help trusting him on the wizard things.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Angelo wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Angie shared the feeling with Harry that only them and Hagrid could see it. Before he could mention this, Hagrid had steered both inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry's shoulder and making Harry's knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at the brothers, "is this -- can this be -- ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "The Potters... what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward the two boys and seized Harry’s hand, Angelo flinching away, tears in the old bartender’s eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Angelo didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Angelo raised a hand, the elbow resting on his other arm, and casually spoke. “No need to stare, and I don’t do touching, that’s Harry’s job.”

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand -- I'm all of a flutter."

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."

"I've seen you before!" said Harry, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? He remembers me!" Harry shook hands again and again -- Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Angelo, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. Angelo, who had been at the edge of the circle while all this occurred, sighed. “We need to get going, the world isn’t going to stop spinning for us y’know.” At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

"Must get on -- lots ter buy. Come on, Harry."

Doris Crockford shook Harry's hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh -- mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"Is he always that nervous?" Asked Angelo

"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience... They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -- never been the same since. Scared of the students, scared of his own subject -- now, where's me umbrella?"

Hags? Angelo’s head was swimming with thoughts of folklores he had heard a long time ago. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.

"Three up... two across... " he muttered. "Right, stand back."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered -- it wriggled -- in the middle, a small hole appeared -- it grew wider and wider -- a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.

"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."

He grinned at their amazement. They stepped through the archway. Angelo looked quickly over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons -- All Sizes -- Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver -- Self-Stirring -- Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."

Angelo turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles every 30 grams, they're mad..."

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium -- Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about 11 had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Angelo heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand -- fastest ever -- " There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Angelo had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

"Gringotts," said Hagrid.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was --

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Angelo noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Angelo paused to bow back. The goblin looked taken aback before Angelo scurried off to join his party. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall, Angelo bowed again. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

"You have his key, sir?"

"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry and Angelo watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.

"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.

The goblin looked at it closely.

"That seems to be in order, however I believe Albus Dumbledore has the main access to the heir Potter vault. It would help if you had it as well."

“Ah, ‘fraid not.” Hagrid said. "But I've got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."

The goblin read the letter carefully.

"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!"

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Harry followed Griphook toward one of the doors leading off the hall.

"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Harry asked.

"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."

“What do you think, Angelo?”

“It’s intriguing but I barely know about any of this to make an inference.” Angelo said calmly, Raising his chin slightly and straightening his posture, hands crossed around his chest. Bright green eyes stared through loose strands of hair at his brother.

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. “The architecture is interesting to say the least.” Angelo let slip from his chapped lips. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in -- Hagrid with some difficulty -- and were off.

At first they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. Angelo tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.

Angelo's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but he kept them wide open. Once, he thought he saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late -- they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor.

"I never know," Harry called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalactite?"

"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid. "An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."

He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

“Stalactites are on the ceiling, like icicles, Stalagmites come up from the ground.” Angelo mumbled calmly, though he was slightly swaying.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

All his -- it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it from him faster than blinking. How often had they complained how much the twins cost them to keep? And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of it into a bag.

"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"

"One speed only," said Griphook.

They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Angelo leaned over the side to try to see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled him back by the scruff of his neck.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.

"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.

"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook.

"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked.

"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Angelo was sure, and he leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least -- but at first he thought it was empty. Then he noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Angelo and Harry longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry didn't know where to run first now that he had a bag full of money. He didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that he was holding more money than he'd had in his whole life -- more money than even Dudley had ever had.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry and Angelo entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, Harry feeling nervous, Angelo glad to get rid of the man, although still nervous about meeting anyone new.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dears?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here -- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Angelo on a stool next to him slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Angelo.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Angelo’s eyes slightly widened in interest. He tilted his head up slightly, and not just so he could make eye contact with him.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Angelo.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Angelo said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do -- Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Angelo again, cheeks starting to flush with embarrassment.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been -- imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Likely.”

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Angelo and pointing at Three large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage -- lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry coldly.

“He’s mediocre at best, Harry, Don’t talk him up.”

“Angelo! That’s Hagrid that you’re talking about!”

“I’m well aware, Harry.” The Redhead responded.

The blond boy’s sneer faltered slightly. "Well, at least one of you has common sense. Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Angelo Replied shortly, not allowing Harry to ruin the chance of making friends again.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

“Oh, where are my manners? I’m-“

But before Angelo could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

“Ah, I should follow him. But my name’s Angelo Potter, Just remember the long red hair and you should be able to find me! I hope I get Slytherin like you!” Angelo said, before hoping off the stool and scurrying towards Harry.

Harry was rather quiet as he ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought him (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"Nothing," Harry lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry cheered up a bit when he found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote. Angelo was fascinated with a silver ink pot. When they had left the shop, he said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know -- not knowin' about Quidditch!"

"Don't make us feel worse," said Harry. He told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"-- and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in--"

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were -- he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they saw yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles -- look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like -- like soccer in the Muggle world -- everyone follows Quidditch -- played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls -- sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"

"School houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but--"

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Harry gloomily.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

“That’s not an attribute of Slytherin, Hagrid, I want to know how to get into it.” Angelo said, a passion burning in his narrowed eyes.

“Blimey Angelo, You don’t want to be in Slytherin!”

“Yes I do.” A sneer creeped onto his face, and his nose wrinkled. 

"Vol-, sorry -- You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" Harry stepped in, trying to interject.

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They bought Harry and Angelo's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these. Hagrid almost had to drag Harry away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.

“I wanna hex Dudley!”

"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll need a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."

Hagrid wouldn't let Harry buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"), and Angelo chewedbut they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope. Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the twins, Angelo himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).

Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked the list again.

"Just yer wands left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh birthday presents."

Harry went red.

"You don't have to--"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at -- an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin'."

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Harry now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. He couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. “What gift dew yeh want Angelo?”

“A new satchel will be nice.” About 5 minutes later they exited a shop to continue walking down the Main Street, with Angelo clutching his new emerald green satchel.

"Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now -- only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

“The only reason that you got green, is because you wanna be in that horrible snake house.” Harry mumbled.

“Ugh! I’m sick and tired of you and your stupid grudge with the first thing you see! Why can’t you just accept that I’m different? That I can make my own decisions!”

“I’ll let you make your own when they’re the right ones! You know who killed our parents but you want to be in the same house as him!” Harry reaches to grab Angelo’s satchel but Angelo shoved him away and Harry fell onto the ground. Angelo’s eyes shifted from bright green to a soft blue as he raised a hand to cover his mouth. He turned around and ran away.

Turning into an alleyway he sank down before big globes of tears started to streak down his face. Lifting his hand up to wipe the away he thought, ‘I cant go back! They’ll be so mad at me!’ Slowly he picked himself up before turning his eyes a deep brown. The last thing on his list was a wand, so he should look for a wand shop.

Opening the door to a shop that looked like it didn’t have any lights, he walked up to the marble stone counter in the front. A man walked out of the back before walking up to where Angelo stood. “Bonjour là, comment puis-je vous aider?” Angelo paused for moment with his eyebrows knitted before the man realized his mistake. “Oh! Sorry, how may I help you today?”

“Do you sell wands?”

“Ah! Yes of course I do.” He reached behind the counter to pull out a couple boxes. “Well just wave your hands over these, and if you feel a strong pull, tell me.” 

After a few minutes he stared to craft the wand right in front of the now blue haired Angelo. “What name to put onto the wand?”

Angelo’s pillowy lips parted to mumble a soft “Angelo Potter, sir.” The man looked up before nodding and scratching that in. 

“Here you go, hazel and dragon heartstrings, twelve inches, rigid and neat."

Angelo took the wand. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and the man bowed him from the shop.

Angelo’s appearance changed back to the red hair and green eyes before looking for his brother and Hagrid. The giant of a man stepped out of a shabby looking building before Angelo started to run for them. 

“Angelo! You had us scared for a bit! Where were you?” Hagrid asked.

“Getting my wand.” Angelo mumbled leaning away from both Harry and Hagrid. “Hazel and dragon heartstring.”  
Angelo suddenly heard a voice calling out his name. He looked up and looked around to see the blond kid from earlier.

“Angelo lets go.” Harry mumbles trying to take his twin’s arm, clearly not learning his lesson before. But Angelo pulled away before turning to the boy and walking towards him a small smile on his face.

“Hello again.” Angelo called back, the two meeting in the middle. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”

The boy’s hand quickly fished in between them. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you my name! I’m Draco Malfoy. It’s quite a pleasure to have met you!” He cried a smirk plastered across his lips, but his voice oozed with excitement.

“Well it’s nice to see you again Draco, but I think I have bad news.”

“What is it? Are you not going to Hogwarts?”

“No, no, of course I’m going! I just think I might not get Slytherin. I think I fit in more with Ravenclaw.”

“Oh that’s fine! Ravenclaw is still a respectable house, unlike Gryffindor...”

“Angelo! We still need to get some other supplies. Besides I don’t want you with him.” Harry called.

“Ah, sorry Draco. I best be going. But I’ll owl you as soon as I get home, how does that sound?” Angelo asked, foot leaning away from his new friend.

“Of course, I shouldn’t keep you waiting. You can owl me anytime.” Draco said. Angelo gave him one last smile before turning to follow Harry and Hagrid.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harry, Angelo and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Angelo still had his nose buried in Hogwarts a History, but was still upset that he lined up more with Ravenclaw than Slytherin, but was still thinking about that Gryffindor remark. 

Neither twin spoke at all as they walked down the road; and Angelo didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy owl asleep in its cage on Harry's lap. Up another escalator, out into Paddington station; Harry only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped him on the shoulder.

"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.

He bought Harry a hamburger, Angelo had refused even though the last thing he ate was a few sausages at breakfast, and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them. Harry kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow. Angelo slipped in his earbuds and started playing from his music library, which held a surprisingly large amount of ‘emo’.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.

Harry wasn't sure he could explain. He'd just had the best birthday of his life -- and yet -- he chewed his hamburger, trying to find the words.

"I don’t like the boy Angelo is hanging out with," he started. "It just looks like he’s using him, and, that blond kid’s putting thoughts in his head. Not to mention the fact that Angelo already knows a bunch of wizard stuff and I barely know anything. Everybody treats me like I’m special but just because of a story and my star but I’m not.”

Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts -- I did -- still do, 'smatter of fact. And as for Angelo’s friend, you’ll have to talk with him about it."

Hagrid helped Harry on to the train that would take him back to the Dursleys, then handed him an envelope.

"Yer tickets fer Hogwarts, " he said. "First o' September -- King's Cross -- it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me... See yeh soon."

The train pulled out of the station. Harry wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in his seat and pressed his nose against the window, but he blinked and Hagrid had gone.

Meanwhile In the seat next to him, Angelo had just started writing a letter to Malfoy.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Train buddies!

The twins’s last month with the Dursleys wasn't fun. True, Dudley was now so scared of Harry he wouldn't stay in the same room, while Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't shut Harry in his cupboard, force either of them to do anything, or shout at them— in fact, they didn't speak to him at all. Half terrified, half furious, they acted as though they weren’t there. Although this was an improvement in many ways, it did become a bit depressing after a while, at least for Harry.

Angelo rolled up a piece of paper and sealed it in an envelope. He set his favorite quill, a black crow feather, next to his ink pot, a now blank black one set to change with his Hogwarts house. Taking the letter he knocked on Harry’s door.

“What Angelo?” He snapped, still upset with his brother for becoming friends with the likes of Malfoy. 

“I need to send a letter.” Angelo responded, refusing to let his brother’s bad attitude get him down.

“Fine.”

Angelo stepped into his brothers room and let Hedwig out of her cage. “I need you to send this to the Malfoys, ok girl?” Hedwig gladly accepted the letter and flew off. “Why do you still insist on keeping her in here? You don’t have any friends to send letters to, and I do.”

“Because she’s my owl. You got a brand new satchel for your gift, and you already have a snake. Don’t be greedy.” Harry sneered.

Angelo gave him ‘the look’ and walked off back to his room before opening the window. He picked up his Hogwarts potions book before grabbing a can of soda and curling up to read it.

On the last day of August he thought he'd better speak to his aunt and uncle about getting to King's Cross station the next day, so he went down to the living room where they were watching a quiz show on television. He cleared his throat to let them know he was there, and Dudley screamed and ran from the room.

"Er -- Uncle Vernon?"

Uncle Vernon grunted to show he was listening.

"Er -- I need to be at King's Cross tomorrow to -- to go to Hogwarts."

Uncle Vernon grunted again.

"Would it be all right if you gave me a lift?"  
Grunt. Harry supposed that meant yes.  
"Thank you."

He was about to go back upstairs when Uncle Vernon actually spoke.

"Funny way to get to a wizards' school, the train. Magic carpets all got punctures, have they?"

Angelo snapped around to stare at him. “It’s so that muggleborn students can get to Hogwarts.” He answered, Although Uncle Vernon didn’t seem to care at hear.

"Where is this school, anyway?"

"I don’t know, actually. It never says anything in any of my books." said Angelo, realizing this for the first time. He pulled the ticket Hagrid had given him out of his pocket.

"I just take the train from platform nine and three-quarters at eleven o'clock," he read.  
His aunt and uncle stared.

"Platform what?"

"Nine and three-quarters."

"Don't talk rubbish," said Uncle Vernon. "There is no platform nine and three-quarters."

"It's on my ticket."

"Barking," said Uncle Vernon, "howling mad, the lot of them. You'll see. You just wait. All right, we'll take you to King's Cross. We're going up to London tomorrow anyway, or I wouldn't bother."

"Why are you going to London?" Harry asked, trying to keep things friendly.

"Taking Dudley to the hospital," growled Uncle Vernon. "Got to have that ruddy tail removed before he goes to Smeltings."

When Angelo woke up at 6:00 am the next morning he didn’t even try to go back to sleep. He had packed the night before so he checked his notifications. From his best friend Andrionka he found a text from a few minutes ago. 

“Hey Angie you ready for Hogwarts?!”

“Yeah def. Can’t wait to see you at Kings Cross!” 

He had found out a bit ago that Andrionka was from a wizarding family, however was born to muggles due to her muggleborn uncle.

He got up and pulled on some black leggings under some shorts and a tank top with a sweater around his waist because he didn't want to walk into the station in his wizard's robes -- he'd change on the train. He walked downstairs to grab a pack of ramen to make, and then paced the room, waiting for the Dursleys to get up. 

Two hours later, both of the twins’s huge, heavy trunks had been loaded into the Dursleys' car, Aunt Petunia had talked Dudley into sitting next to Harry, and they had set off.  
They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Angie's trunk onto a cart and wheeled it into the station for him. Harry was left to wheel his alone. A bit in-front of them he saw his best friend, sitting in the basket as her parents pushed her. 

“Andy!” Angelo called out. Her curly black hair whipped around to see who was calling. She mumbled something to her parents and hopped out of the cart. She ran over to Angelo and he jumped into her arms.

“Hey hey hey! How’s my favorite Redhead?” Her brown eyes shining. She backed up and Angelo looked her up and down. She had on a short sleeved gray and black shirt, red pants and a star necklace. She put her hand on her hip, other brown arm hanging at her side.

“Well I’m fine, How are you? Oh, I haven’t seen you in ages love!”

Uncle Vernon stopped dead, facing the platforms with a nasty grin on his face.  
"Well, there you are. Platform nine -- platform ten. Your platform should be somewhere in the middle, but they don't seem to have built it yet, do they?"

He was quite right, of course. There was a big plastic number nine over one platform and a big plastic number ten over the one next to it, and in the middle, nothing at all.

"Have a good term," said Uncle Vernon with an even nastier smile. He left without another word. Harry and Angelo turned and saw the Dursleys drive away. All three of them were laughing. Harry's mouth went rather dry. What on earth was he going to do? He was starting to attract a lot of funny looks, because of Hedwig. He'd have to ask someone.

“Oh, I forgot that you guys have lived with Muggles for so long. Here, come with me.” Angelo and Harry stared at her. “Well? Here’s how you do it. Just walk in between them and you’ll be on the other side in no time. Ma, show them how it’s done.”

An older woman with box braids walked up in between the 9 and 10 signs and— slipped through. 

“Alright Angie lets go.” She said before gripping her cart. Angelo mirrored her. “Ready? It’s easier to run at it.” The redhead nodded and both preteens turned to walk through nine and 3/4.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people on the other side. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Angelo looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it, He had done it.  
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Andy And Angie pushed their carts down the platform in search of an empty seat. He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh.  
A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.  
They pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment at the end of the train.

The train began to move. Houses flashed past the window. Angelo’s felt a great leap of excitement. He didn't know what he was going to but it had to be better than what he was leaving behind.

The door of the compartment slid open and a few people came in. The first he noticed was Draco Malfoy, along with a red haired girl that looked older than him.  
"Can we join? Everywhere else is full."

Andy nodded and the two sat down. The girl glanced at Angelo and then looked quickly out of the window, pretending she hadn't looked. Her eyes were a gray-blue color that he could relate to Malfoy.

She suddenly turned stout to face him. “Hello I am Valentina Lestrange. Are- Are you really Angelo Potter?” She pointed at Angelo's neck.  
Angelo pulled back his hair to show the lines of the scar. Valentina stared.

"So that's where—“

"Yes," said Angelo, "but I can't remember it."

"Nothing?" said Valentina eagerly.

"Well -- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else."

"Wow," Draco piped in. They both sat and stared at Harry for a few moments, then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.

“So you two are first cousins due to your mothers, right?” That caught their attention. Angie raised both hands with the palm out, “I’ve read about pureblood genealogy.”

"Ah, well yes. Now," she turned to Andrionka, “Who are you?”

The dark-skinned witch crossed her legs and draped an arm on Angelo’s shoulders. “I’m Andrionka Wood, and I’m a muggleborn, in case you’re wondering, but I usually go by half-blood.” She paused for air. “Anyways since we’re all swapping questions, does everyone have a pet? I have rat.” She traced into her bag to pull out a sleeping white rat. 

Angelo looked uncomfortable for a second before a snake wriggled it’s way through the neck hole of his shirt. “Thiss is my lovely Malinda.” He said, unconsciously hissing his words.

“Are you a parselmouth? Is that how you tamed her?” Valentina asked.

“Well I can speak to snakes if that what you mean.” Angelo answered.

“Wow! You must be a descendent of Slytherin then! Draco and I share an owl, we call him Hades.”

Angelo smiled and started speaking to them about before Hogwarts. "... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort."

Everyone gasped. Andrionka near fell off her seat.

"What?" Asked Angelo.

"You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Val, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --"

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying it," said Angelo, “I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got so much to learn....” he added, voicing for the first time something that had been bothering him, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There's loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough." Andy said, hand slipping down to his thigh, which were turned in.

Draco snorted. “What are you guys going to shag right here in front of us?” He teased, eyes training down to where Andrionka’s hand was resting on Angelo’s thigh. Andy almost immediately retracted her hand as Angelo curled away from everyone.

While they had been talking, the train had carried them out of London. Now they were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. They were quiet for a time, watching the fields and lanes flick past.

The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.

There was a knock on the door of their compartment and the round-faced boy Angelo’s had passed on platform nine and threequarters came in. He looked tearful.  
"Sorry," he said, "but have you seen a toad at all?"

When they shook their heads, he wailed, "I've lost him! He keeps getting away from me!"

"He'll turn up," said Andy.

"Yes," said the boy miserably. "Well, if you see him..."

He left.

"Don't know why he's so bothered," said Val. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quick as I could."

Andy’s rat was still snoozing on her lap.  
“I’ve been practicing some spells at my cousin’s house. Wanna see some?” The others nodded. She rummaged in her trunk and pulled out a wand. It was made of rough wood.

She had just raised the wand when the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. She was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.

"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.  
"We've already told him we haven't seen it," said Val, but the girl wasn't listening, she was looking at the wand in the dark skinned witch’s hand.

"Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see it, then."  
She sat down. They all looked taken aback.

"Er -- all right."

"Lumos." She waved the wand, and a flicker of light was quickly at the tip. “Nox.” The light went out. “Satisfied?”

“Yes. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”

"I'm Andrionka Wood," she muttered while putting her wand away.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

“Valentina Bellatrix Lestrange.”

"Angelo Lily Potter." He said, copying his pureblood friends.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I just met your brother, and of course I know all about you two— I got a few extra books. for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century!

“You as well, Lestrange.” She said the name with venom. “Your parents—“

“Yeah yeah, I’ve heard. My parents were Death Eaters, yada yada. If you’re just going to judge us from what you’ve heard and books then you don’t deserve to know the real us. Leave.” She clapped her hands twice with a sneer as she stared down at Hermione.

Hermione looked taken aback before countering. “I knew it! All you pureblood are snooty! And I bet you’re kicking me out just because I’m Muggleborn, the nerve! Why I should,” she moved to pull out her wand but Valentina beat her to it. Her wand pointed directly at Hermione.

“Get out of here now, before you do something that you’ll regret, granger.” At this the bushy haired girl stood up and just before she scampered away, Andy spoke up. “Just so you know, Granger, I’m muggleborn. Miss Lestrange doesn’t harbor any blood prejudice.”

They all seemed to let out a collective sigh.  
"Does anyone know what house you'll be in? I hope I'm in Slytherin, but Ravenclaw wouldn’t be bad. Ah! You two should change, we'll be there soon."

"Whatever house I'm in, I hope she's not in it," said Angelo, who had been unsurprisingly quiet during the whole ordeal.

“Slytherin as well.” Draco said.

“Honestly any house but Gryffindor sounds perfect.” 

“I have a feeling that we’re going to be great friends.” Angelo said, clapping his hands.

"Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the Daily Prophet, but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles -- someone tried to rob a high security vault."

Angelo stared.

Malindra raised her head. “Then they’re an idiot.”

“I’d sssay! Robbing a bank full of goblinss? One of the worssssst thingsss you can do.” Angelo responded. "What happened to them?" 

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My father says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts, but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it."

Angelo turned this news over in his mind. He was starting to get a prickle of fear every time You- Know-Who was mentioned. He supposed this was all part of entering the magical world, but it had been a lot more comfortable saying "Voldemort" without worrying.

After dressing in their clothes Draco turned to the group. “Do you guys wanna go with me to find Harry Potter?” Draco asked. The others nodded. The four entered, He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.

"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," said Harry. 

“Oh, this is Valentina.” said Draco carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigget. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He turned around to place a hand an Angelo’s shoulder. “Not you of course.”

The redhead responded with: “Weasleys aren’t metamophigi.”

He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the wrong way. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Both Harry and Ron stood up.

"Say that again," Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Unless you get out now," said Harry.

"But we don't feet like leaving, do we? We've haven’t food and you still seem to have some."

“Mmm, yeah! I’m hungry!” Andy reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Ron - Ron leapt forward, but before he’d so much as touched her, she flinched back.

Scabbers the rat was hanging off her finger, sharp little teeth sunk deep into the soft flesh- Val and Draco backed away as Andy gently tried to stop it from biting her. “Fine, keep your food. I’m sure the feast at Hogwarts will satisfy me.”

Angelo peered out of the window. It was getting dark. He could see mountains and forests under a deep purple sky. The train did seem to be slowing down.

A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Angelo’s stomach lurched with nerves. Malindra seemed to notice because she popped out of Angelo’s messenger bag to nuzzle up against his hand.

“Don’t worry snakelet, we will all be fine.” She hissed. Angelo turned to face her.

“I hope so.” With that confirmation she slipped back into the green bag. 

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. Angelo shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Angelo regrettably heard a familiar voice.

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right there, Harry?" Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me -- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"  
Slipping and stumbling, they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Angelo thought there must be thick trees there. Andrionka held pinkies with him most of the time. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.  
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here." There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black take. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. The quartet of train buddies climbed into one. "Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then -- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, Oak front door.  
"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"  
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize that Andrionka and Angelo’s relationships definitely sounds romantic but I imagine it more as ‘they’ve got a tight bond and Andy adores him so they flirt’ Angelo is also a shy boy so ergo, pinkies! (Andy is also a flirt so-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo is at Hogwarts and all his friends are Slytherin.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Angelo’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Angie could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right -- the rest of the school must already be here -- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."  
And with that she left the chamber.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" Angelo asked Val.

"Some sort of test, I think."

Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air -- several people behind him screamed.

"What the -- ?"

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance--"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost -- I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling as though his legs had turned to lead, Angelo got into line behind Andrionka, with a brown haired boy behind him, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Angelo could never even imagined such a strange and amazing place. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Anglo looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn't simply open on to the heavens.

Anglo quickly looked down again as Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

Noticing that everyone in the hall was now staring at the hat, he stared at it, too. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth -- and the hat began to sing:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Yes, trying on the hat was a lot better than having to do a spell, but he did wish they could have tried it on without everyone watching. The hat seemed to be asking rather a lot; Angelo didn't feel brave or quick-witted or any of it at the moment. If only the hat had mentioned a house for people who felt a bit queasy, that would have been the one for him.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moments pause --

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. The ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became a Slytherin.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Angelo noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Harry in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat. 

A horrible thought struck. What if he wasn't chosen at all? What if he just sat there with the hat over his eyes for ages, until Professor McGonagall jerked it off his head and said there had obviously been a mistake and he'd better get back on the train?

“Lestrange, Valentina!” There was a pause in the loudness of the Great Hall and hushed whispers filled the hall, even at the staff table. She strides up to the stool and sat down with closed eyes. After 3 minutes the sorting hat shouted out “SLYTHERIN!” And nobody was surprised.

When Neville Longbottom, the boy who kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF," Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to "Lupin, Cassiopeia,” who herself was the twin of “Lupin, Janus.”

Draco swaggered forward when his name was called and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Malfoy went to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"..., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"..., then "Perks, Sally-Anne"..., and then, at last --

“Potter, Angelo!” Angelo straightened his posture before crossing his arms and striding up to the sorting hat before taking a seat.

"Potter, did she say?"

“Angelo Potter?”

"Hmm. SLYTHERIN!"

Angelo heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Slytherin table. He was so relieved to have been chosen and put in Slytherin, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. 

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"The Harry Potter?"

After a bit of time the sorting hat yelled: “GRYFFINDOR!” Percy the Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley twins yelled, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" From the Slytherin table loud shouts turned to “We have the better Potter!”

Angelo could see the High Table properly now. And there, in the center of the High Table, in a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Angelo spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.

And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a Black boy even taller than Val, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw and a second later the hat had shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

“Wood, An- Andrionka!” Professor McGonagall had some trouble pronouncing his best friend’s name, pronouncing it more like Andre-On-ka instead of the And-re-oh-nika.

"Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he -- a bit mad?" he asked Draco uncertainly.

"Mad?" said Draco snarking. "Of course he is!"

Angelo’s mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs. 

He wasn’t used to that much food, Angelo piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious.

Across the hall there was the Gryffindor ghost. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at the stunned looks on their faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back onto his neck,

Next to Draco was their house ghost- the bloody Barron. He had blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood.

When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding...

As Angelo helped himself to a Apple pie, the talk turned to their families.

"I'm Muggleborn," said Andrionka, who was sitting on the other side of him. "My dad's a Muggle, but my aunt on my moms side? All witches and wizards. Mom didn't tell him 'til after they were married. Bit of a shock for him."

The others laughed.

Across the table, Marcus Flint and Valentina we’re talking. ("I do hope they start right away, there's so much to learn, I'm particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else, of course, it's supposed to be very difficult— "; "You'll be starting small, just matches into needles and that sort of thing—").

Angelo looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. Dumbledore looked directly into his eyes, and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Angelo’s neck.

Angelo clapped a hand to it.

"What is it?" asked Percy Weasley.

"Nothing."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Angelo had gotten from the teacher's look -- a feeling that he didn't like he at all.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem -- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered.

"Must be," said Marcus, frowning at Dumbledore. "He usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere— the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore.

An older year groaned and placed a hand to her head. “Dear Skys, why after we eat and every single year!?” 

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot, just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody (except the majority of Slytherins) finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed their prefects through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down a marble staircase. He had read enough to not be surprised that the people in the portraits along the corridors whispered and pointed as they passed, or that twice the prefects led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet, and Angelo was just wondering how much farther they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

“Here we are." In front of them there stood a wall.

"Giant Squid," said Marcus, and the walk opened to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Slytherin common room, a dark, cold part of the castle that’s green stained glass windows seemed to hold back the water in the lake.

Marcus directed the boys to their dormitories.  
“This year there are two boys to a room. Choose a dorm partner.” Crabbe and Goyle chose each other (no shock), unfortunately, Draco partnered with Zabani. Another boy walked up to him. “Hi, I’m Scamander. Malachite Scamander.” He waved. “I guess we have to pick each other, huh? So what’s your name?” Angelo noticed his flat tone, and the way he broke apart his given name.

Angelo flushed slightly. “Potter, Angelo Potter. It’s nice to meet you. Let’s get to our dorms, alright?” The other boy nodded, light brown hair bobbing. Despite his straight posture, his blue-green eyes, that did resemble malachite stones may I add, were droopy with tiredness.

Entering their bedroom they found their beds at last: two four-posters hung with dark green, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and slipped into their beds.

Malindra, Angelo’s off white snake slipping onto his extra pillow. A few seconds later he realized that his dorm-mate had fallen asleep. Malindra moved so head pressed against her his cheek and she said; “how are you feeling, sssssnakelet? Are you enjoying the humans around you?”

Angelo shifted so that he was in more of a ball. “I’m fine Mal. I’m just not excited for tomorrow. G’night.”


	7. Chapter 7 (an original)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy original chapter!!!!

The next time when Angelo woke up, it was before even the sun came up. Casting a simple tempus charm revealed the time to be about 5:30. He slipped out of his velvet sheets and sorted through clothes to find his official Slytherin uniform. With Belindra curled around his neck he stalked into the cold bathroom of their dorms. 

Something that he was quick to notice, was that the room was much bigger on the inside. When first waking in, it had an area with a velvety black couch and white carpet. To the left of that, there was an arm chair, and to the right there seemed to be another room with a dining table and chair set. Walking straight forwards there was the bedroom, and in there was the door to the bathroom. In the bathroom there was a white porcelain sink, a shower, a bath, and a toilet. The shower curtains were a nice shade of gray with green leaf patterns.

Belindra slipped off of his shoulders onto the cold sink, which Angelo had placed a weak heating charm onto. He slipped his pajama shirt over his head to expose a skinny frame. Angelo pinched one of his sides and tugged on it before flinching away. He had eaten too much at the feast and had gotten a few heart palpitations, cramps, and a major headache.

Belindra lifted her head to look Angelo up and down before shaking her head. “You are thin, my snakeling. ’m glad you’re away from bad humans.” Angelo nodded.

“Me too Belindra.” He slipped in and out of the shower, though not forgetting to relish in warm water. He slipped his white dress shirt onto his shoulders before fumbling with the buttons. Next was the black pants that he slipped on (his thighs still had some meat).

Reaching up he tied the tie with a rose knot, his favorite, before deciding against it and going with a simple Windsor.

Stepping out of the bathroom he cast another tempus, I see the time had changed an hour and see Malachite just waking up before putting on and lacing up his boots. 

“Hello.” 

Angelo looked up from his phone to see Malachite sitting on his bed. 

“Hi.” Angelo said back.

“Do, uhm... Just so you know, I didn’t know that you were the Angelo Potter when I asked you to dorm with me.” Malachite mumbled. Angelo shrugged.

“I know. You looked like you were about to pass out.”

Malachite looked away before putting on his outer robes. “We should go down to the common room, it’s almost time for breakfast.” Angelo stood to follow him.

Welcome to Slytherin.” A deep, cold voice said. “I am Professor Snape, Head of the Slytherin House.” He said, pacing. His black robes billowed out quite impressively and his arms were crossed in an intimidating manner.  
“The rules,” he barked, “are that whatever problem you have stays in the common room; if you have a problem, you first approach a Prefect, and if it is an emergency, you come find me. If you are to woefully express yourself, do not get caught. We will only share our opinions inside the common room, not out. you will do your very best to not shame this House. We are already prejudiced enough, and I do not want more of it. As a Slytherin, you will be seen as a ‘slimy snake’, so be watchful on what you say, as to not lose House points. Are we clear?”

A quiet, meek chorus of “Yes sir,” was heard and Angelo simply nodded his head, not trusting his voice for some reason. His hair suddenly draped into his face, turning blue. He pulled it away behind his ear. Snape snapped around to stare at him, and Angelo shrunk down while hiding behind his more noticeably short hair.

“Potter, if you continue with that hair style, you’ll be a bit more than blind. I suggest moving it.”

Angelo’s hair was a pale blue, and was thick, and neck length. It cascaded down his face to part out his nose, allowing his mouth to be shown. He nodded before willing it to change back to a auburn, and only covering one eye. Snape rolled his eyes before exiting the common room.

Andrionka walked up to him, fighting the crowd that gathered around Angelo. He had was holding himself and his previous blue hairstyle had returned.

“Angie baby, what do you wanna do next?” Angelo practically clinged onto her. She chuckled before pulling a bit of his hair away from his face. “Let’s read some potions books, ok love?” Her hand reached under his chin and just by his neck and rubbed, much like a cat.

They sat down and opened their potions book, reading through the first few chapters before Draco popped up to inform them that it was time to go. They packed their bags and stepped out of the common room.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snape plays favorites and Angelo loved it.

Their classes, Angelo found out, were a lot different than he expected them to be. In astronomy (which was Angelo’s favorite) they had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. 

Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study Herbology, with a dumpy little witch called Professor Sprout, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. 

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates, and got Emetic the Evil and Uric the Oddball mixed up. The entirety of the class was from books, so the “Murder of Crows,” as they called themselves, took turns skipping the class.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took the roll call, and when he reached Angelo's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight. The same happened for Valentina, but a fearful look overcame him and he glanced over to her every few minutes.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Angelo had been quite right to think she wasn't a teacher to cross. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class.

"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. They were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized they weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. 

Angelo picked up his wand, ready to make a difference but doubting that he could do it on his first go. Magic coursed through his fingers as he pointed his wand at the matchstick. He imagined the needle he wanted to make and...

The matchstick had turned silver, and pointy, on the other end the eye was an oval. McGonagall walked up to him, grabbed his matchstick and nodded. 

“It’s a needle.” She said, be fore flashing him a smile. “Good job.” Despite the praise that had made his hair go a strawberry blonde, he couldn’t help but see a small sourness to her face. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to get it right?

Little did he know that the reason that McGonagall has such a look on her face was due to the amount of power a child could have. The only other child that she knew of that managed to do such a thing was... Thomas Marvalo Riddle.

Friday was an important day for Andy and Malachite. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once.

"What have we got today?" Malachite asked.

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," said Draco. "Best be glad Snape’s teaching. He favors the Slytherins.”

Just then, the mail arrived. Angelo had gotten used to this by now, but it had given him a bit of a shock on the first morning, when about a hundred owls had suddenly streamed into the Great Hall during breakfast, circling the tables until they saw their owners, and dropping letters and packages onto their laps.

Hedwig hadn't brought anything so far. She sometimes flew in to have a bit of toast before going off to sleep in the owlery with the other school owls. This morning, however, she fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a note onto Harry's plate.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at the Potter name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "The Potters. Our new -- celebrities."

Draco and the rest of the Crows sniggered behind their hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. 

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word -- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

More silence followed this little speech. Angelo was on the edge of his seat and was desperate to start proving that he wasn't a dunderhead.

"Harry Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"I don't know, sir," said Harry.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer.

"Tut, tut -- fame clearly isn't everything."

He ignored Hermione's hand.

“Let’s test your brother. Angelo Potter, What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Angelo damn near fell off his chair. “Uhm...” his hair turned blue again with that stupid over his eyes look. “A... A Sleeping... A sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death, I believe sir...”

"Good. Let's try again. Harry Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry didn't seem to have the faintest idea what a bezoar was. Draco, Vincent and Greg were shaking with held in laughter.

"I don't know, sir."

"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?" He turned to look at Angelo.

“A goat’s stomach, sir.” Angelo pulled his now Strawberry blond hair to hang off his ears.

"What is the difference, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Angelo does. You can stop asking me all of this."

A few people laughed; Snape was not pleased. Angelo’s nose wrinkled into a sneer. He turned to Angelo for the last time.

“ Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. I do, also, sincerely apologize for my brother’s insolence, and inability to pick up a book. He’s always been a bad student.” Angelo’s face had a charming smile, head tilted to the side with furrowed eyebrows.

“There is no need to apologize for you brother’s wrongdoings, four points to Slytherin for your questions and remorsefulness. Well, why aren’t you all writing that down?”

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around in his long black cloak, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Angelo, Draco and Valentina whom he seemed to like. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy had stewed his horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. Seamus's cauldron has melted into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Seamus, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"Idiot boy!" snarled Snape, clearing the spilled potion away with one wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Seamus whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at his partner, a girl with brown hair. Then he rounded on Harry and Ron, who had been working next to them.

"You -- Potter -- why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Weasley decides to give Angelo a hard time on a broomstick, and Malachite decides that he can break routine for Angelo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! I’m so sorry I didn’t post on the first I forgot it was posting day!!!

First-year Slytherins only had Potions with the Gryffindors, so they didn't have to put up with Weasley much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Slytherin common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Angelo darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick."

He had been looking forward to learning to fly more than anything else.

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Malachite reasonably. "Anyway, I know Weasley's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Neville, whom they had been introduced to by Malachite, had never been on a broomstick in his life, because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Angelo felt she'd had good reason, because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground.

Andrionka was almost as nervous about flying as Neville was. This was something you couldn't learn by heart out of a book -- not that she hadn't tried. At breakfast on Thursday she blabbered about flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages. Angelo was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when her lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harry hadn't had a single letter since the note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he gloated about, then shared at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh... " His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "... you've forgotten something..."

Neville was trying to remember what he'd forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Hufflepuff table, held out his hand for it. Neville gave it to him.

Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.

"What's going on?"

"I let Malfoy get a look at my Remembrall, Professor."

Draco quickly dropped the Remembrall back into Neville’s hands.

"Just looking," he said, and he walked away with Angelo, Vincent and Greg behind him.

At three-thirty that afternoon, the Gryffindor first- years hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Angelo had heard Percy and Marcus complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

Their teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Angelo glanced down at his broom. It was old, but seemed to be in great condition compared to Harry’s, which was equally as old and had some of the twigs stuck out at odd angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harry and Angelo’s brooms jumped into their hands at once, but they were one of the few that did. Hermione Granger's had simply rolled over on the ground, and Neville's hadn't moved at all. Perhaps brooms, could tell when you were afraid, thought Angelo; there was a quaver in Greengrass’s voice that said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Angelo and Andy were delighted when she told Weasley he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two--"

But Greengrass, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back!" she shouted, but Daphne was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Angelo saw her scared face look down at the ground falling away, saw her gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --

WHAM -- a thud and a nasty crack and she lay facedown on the grass in a heap, broomstick still rising higher and higher, and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Daphne, their faces both white.

"Broken wrist," Angelo heard her mutter. "Come on, girl -- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"None of you is to move while I take this girl to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear."

Greengrass, her face tear-streaked, clutching her wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around her.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Weasley burst into laughter.

"Did you see her face, the great lump?"

The other Gryffindors joined in.

"Shut up, Weasley," snapped Valentina Lestrange.

"Ooh, sticking up for Greengrass?" said Seamus Finnagan, an annoying Gryfindor boy. "Never thought you'd be a dyke for fat little crybabies, Lestrange."

"Look!" said Harry, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's a silver necklace!" He handed it to Weasley who gripped it tightly.

The necklace glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Oh, Weasley, I think you can sell it so your family can finally afford food!” Angelo teasingly. Everyone stopped talking to watch.

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Greengrass to find -- how about -- up a tree?"

"Give it and I won’t hurt you." Angelo said quietly. Weasley snorted.

“Everybody knows you never bring a wand when it isn’t necessary! What are you gonna do? Scratch me?”

Angelo stepped forwards but Weasley had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off.  
Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Angelo grabbed his broom.

Andrionka places a hand onto Angelo’s shoulder. “If you get on the broom you’ll loose us house points. Let Gryffindor loose house points, not us.”

Angelo shook his head. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared; air rushed through his hair, and his robes whipped out behind him -- and in a rush of fierce joy he realized he'd found something he could do without being taught -- this was easy, this was wonderful. He pulled his broomstick up a little to take it even higher, and heard screams and gasps of girls back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Malachite.

He turned his broomstick sharply to face Weasley in midair.

"Give it here," Angelo called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?"

Angelo leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Weasley like a javelin. He stuck out his leg and kicked. Weasley dogged and kicked Angelo in the side.

Angelo was falling. A few people who were on the ground were screaming, but there was a loud scream that was in his ears. Angelo realized that it was him screaming.

‘I wish I could fly. I wish I could fly! I DON’T WANNA DIE!’ His mind screamed. He held his head as he curled up for a moment. Spots danced in his vision. His broom passed his vision and he latched onto it.

He uprighted himself as tears streamed down his face.

Weasley looked shocked until he yelled: "Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the necklacehigh into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Angelo saw, as though in slow motion, the silver rise up in the air and then start to fall. He leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down -- next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the chain -- wind whistled in his ears, mingled with the screams of people watching -- he stretched out his hand -- a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the necklace clutched safely in his fist.

"ANGELO POTTER!"

His heart sank faster than he'd just dived. Professor Snape was running toward them. He continued kneeling, necklace clutched tightly to his heart.

"Never -- in all my time at Hogwarts--"

Professor Snape was almost speechless with shock, and his sneer stretched across his face, " -- how dare you -- might have broken your neck--"

"It wasn't his fault, Professor--"

"Be quiet, Patil--"

"But Weasley--"

"That's enough, Wood. Potter, follow me, now."

Angelo caught sight of Weasley and Seamus’s triumphant faces as he left, as well as Harry’s outstretched hand. Angelo snarled at him. He was walking numbly in Professor Snape's wake as he strode toward the castle. Angelo was going to be expelled, he just knew it, tears restarted into his eyes. He wanted to say something to defend himself, but there seemed to be something wrong with his voice. Professor Snape was sweeping along without even looking at him; he had to jog to keep up. Now he'd done it. He hadn't even lasted two weeks. He'd be packing his bags in ten minutes. What would the Dursleys say when he turned up on the doorstep? They’d likely throw him back out to the orphanage.

As his anxiety increased his hair changed shades, as well as gotten shorter and longer in a few places. Pretty soon, blue hair draped in front of his face, and tears ran down his face.

Up the front steps, up the marble staircase inside, and still Professor Snape didn't say a word to him. He wrenched open doors and marched along corridors with Angelo trotting miserably behind him. Maybe he was taking him to Dumbledore. His stomach twisted as he imagined it, watching Andy and the others becoming wizards, while he stumped around the grounds carrying Hagrid's bag.

Professor Snape stopped outside a classroom. He opened the door and poked his head inside.

"Professor Flitwick, could I borrow Flint for a moment?"

Flint? The prefect? Oh no, he was bringing the prefect in!

"Follow me, you two," said Snape, and they marched on up the corridor, Flint looking curiously at Angelo.

"In here."

Professor Snape pointed them into a classroom that was empty except for Peeves, who was busy writing rude words on the blackboard.

"Out, Peeves!" He barked. Peeves threw the chalk into a bin, which clanged loudly, and he swooped out cursing. Professor Snape slammed the door behind him and turned to face the two boys.

"Flint, I've found you a Seeker."

Flint's expression changed from puzzlement to delight. But then back to puzzlement.

"Are you serious, Professor? He’s just a first year!”

"Absolutely," said Professor Snape crisply. "The boy's a natural. I've never seen anything like it. Was that your first time on a broomstick, Potter?"

“Uh- uhm... yes.” He didn't have a clue what was going on, but he didn't seem to be being expelled, and some of the feeling started coming back to his legs.

"He caught that thing in his hand after a fifty-foot dive," Professor McGonagall told Flint. "Didn't even scratch himself."

Flint was now looking as though all his dreams had come true at once.

"Ever seen a game of Quidditch, Potter?" he asked excitedly.

"Flint's captain of the Slytherin team," Snape explained.

"He's just the build for a Seeker, too," said Flint, now walking around Angelo and staring at him. "Light -- speedy -- we'll have to get him a decent broom, Professor -- a Nimbus Two Thousand or a Cleansweep Seven, I'd say."

"I shall speak to Professor Dumbledore and see if we can't bend the first-year rule."

Professor Snape peered sternly over her glasses at Angelo.

"I want to hear you're training hard, Potter, or I may change my mind about punishing you."

It was dinnertime. Angelo had just finished telling the murder of crows what had happened when he'd left the grounds with Professor Snape.

"Seeker ?" Malfoy said. "But first years never -- you must be the youngest house player in about--"

"-- a century," said Angelo, shoveling potatoes into his mouth. He felt particularly hungry after the excitement of the afternoon. "Flint told me."

Malachite was so amazed, so impressed, he just sat and gaped at Angelo.

"I start training next week," said Angelo. "Only don't tell anyone, Flint wants to keep it a secret."

Weasley, Seamus and Harry strode up to them.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Angelo cooed. “Aww, look, someone’s mad that I said the truth!“

"I'd take you on anytime on my own, tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only -- no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

"Course he has," said Seamus, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Angelo sighed before tapping Valentina's shoulder. "Val is."

"Potter," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Weasley had gone, Val and Angie stared at each other.

"We’re not actually going, right?” Valentina asked.

Angelo sighed. “Oh stars no.”

“Let’s get the Gryffindors in trouble yeah?”

Later that day they slipped into the common room and into their dorms. Malachite sat down onto their couch and wrapped himself with the blanket that they kept on their couch. Angelo took off his shoes and settled them down next to Malachite’s.

“How are you Mala?” His half lidded, green-blue eyes snapped over to him.

“Wash your hands once you get in.” Angelo paused before nodding and walking to the bathroom and scrubbing his hands clean.

“I think you should go to our room to sleep...” Angelo mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m too tired.” He yawned before folding up the blanket and walking to their bedroom. Angelo entered and he looked up at Malachite.  
“You aren’t actually going to duel in the trophy room, right?”

Angelo shook his head. “Oh dear stars no! We just wanted Weasley off us.”

“Good.”

It had been raining all night and it had just started to thunder. Angelo wrapped himself in his blanket and whimpered each time thunder struck.

“Are you scared of the thunder?” Malachite’s voice cut through the dark.

“Yeah. I never liked loud noises.”

Malachite stepped into his trunk to feed his animals one last time. Angelo started to get into his bed before Malachite’s head popped out of the trunk. “Care to join me?” Angelo looked a bit nervous until Malachite said, “they’re all double x, so they won’t hurt you.”

Angelo nodded before slipping into the trunk as well. Inside was a cozy workshop, with mahogany wood, and many, many desks. One of the desks had a covered cage and when Malachite’s took the cover off there was a blackish grey creature with a beak.

“This is my niffler. You can feed him if you’d like.”

“O-okay... Will it bite me?”

“No, he doesn’t even have teeth. And if you’d like you can touch them at him.”

Angelo nodded once again before flicking a few food pellets at the creature. Malachite shook his head before showing him how to feed all of the animals.

Angelo yawned. “I think the storms still going on, we can sleep in here if you won’t be able to sleep outside.” Malachite said

“Are you sure?”

“I sleep in here all the time. Mostly on the floor, but the floor’s comfy so its not that bad.”

Angelo nodded before going to a secluded part of the shack and laid down, with Malachite next to him.

“Night.”

“Goodnight.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s common knowledge that Angelo isn’t Cis, and most people do their best to properly gender them, but turns out some people will go out of their way to do the opposite.
> 
> In which Angelo uses They/them and the genderfluid tags come in handy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning! This chapter contains transphobia and transphobic language! If that is upsetting to you then feel free to skip this chapter!

Angelo couldn't believe their eyes when they saw that Harry and Ron were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired but perfectly cheerful.

As the owls flooded into the Great Hall as usual, everyone's attention was caught at once by a long, thin package carried by six large screech owls. Angelo was just as interested as everyone else to see what was in this large parcel, and was amazed when the owls soared down and dropped it right in front of them, knocking their bacon to the floor. The owls had hardly fluttered out of the way when another owl dropped a letter on top of the parcel.

Angelo ripped open the letter first, which was lucky, because it said:

DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE.

It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session.

Professor Snape

Angelo had difficulty hiding their glee as they handed the note to Andrionka to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Andy whispered enviously. "I've never even touched one."

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall they found the way downstairs barred by Weasley. He grabbed the package from Angelo and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Angelo with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, first years aren't allowed them."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Andy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Weasley's elbow.

"Not arguing, I hope?" he squeaked.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Weasley quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Angelo. "Professor Snape told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir." said Angelo, fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Weasley's face.

Angelo and Andy headed downstairs, smothering their laughter at Weasley's obvious rage and confusion.

Angelo had a lot of trouble keeping their mind on his lessons that day. It kept wandering up to the dormitory where their new broomstick was lying under his bed, or straying off to the Quidditch field where they’d be learning to play that night. They bolted his dinner that evening without noticing what they were eating, and then rushed upstairs with Malachite and Andy to unwrap the Nimbus Two Thousand at last.

"Wow," Andy sighed, as the broomstick rolled onto Angelo's bedspread.

Even Angelo, who knew nothing about the different brooms, thought it looked wonderful. Sleek and shiny, with a mahogany handle, it had a long tail of neat, straight twigs and Nimbus Two Thousand written in gold near the top.

As seven o'clock drew nearer, Angelo left the castle and set off in the dusk toward the Quidditch field. Held never been inside the stadium before. Hundreds of seats were raised in stands around the field so that the spectators were high enough to see what was going on. At either end of the field were three golden poles with hoops on the end. They reminded Angelo of the little plastic sticks Muggle children blew bubbles through, except that they were fifty feet high.

Too eager to fly again to wait for Flint, Harry mounted his broomstick and kicked off from the ground. What a feeling -- he swooped in and out of the goal posts and then sped up and down the field. The Nimbus Two Thousand turned wherever he wanted at his lightest touch.

"Hey, Potter, come down!"

Marcus Flint had arrived. He was carrying a large wooden crate under his arm. Angelo landed next to him.

"Very nice," said Flint, his eyes glinting. "I see what Snape meant... you really are a natural. I'm just going to teach you the rules this evening, then you'll be joining team practice three times a week."

He opened the crate. Inside were four different-sized balls.

"Right," said Flint. "Now, Quidditch is easy enough to understand, even if it's not too easy to play. There are seven players on each side. Three of them are called Chasers."

"Three Chasers," Angelo repeated, as Wood took out a bright red ball about the size of a soccer ball.

"This ball's called the Quaffle," said Wood. "The Chasers throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through one of the hoops to score a goal. Ten points every time the Quaffle goes through one of the hoops. Follow me?"

"The Chasers throw the Quaffle and put it through the hoops to score," Angelo recited. "So -- that's sort of like basketball on broomsticks with six hoops, isn't it?"

"What's basketball?" said Flint curiously.

"Never mind," said Angelo quickly.

"Now, there's another player on each side who's called the Keeper -- I'm Keeper for Slytherin. I have to fly around our hoops and stop the other team from scoring."

"Three Chasers, one Keeper," said Angelo, who was determined to remember it all. "And they play with the Quaffle. Okay, got that. So what are they for?" He pointed at the three balls left inside the box.

"I'll show you now," said Angelo. "Take this."

He handed Angelo a small club, a bit like a short baseball bat.

"I'm going to show you what the Bludgers do," Wood said. "These two are the Bludgers."

He showed Angelo two identical balls, jet black and slightly smaller than the red Quaffle. Angelo noticed that they seemed to be straining to escape the straps holding them inside the box.

"Stand back," Flint warned Angelo. He bent down and freed one of the Bludgers.

At once, the black ball rose high in the air and then pelted straight at Angelo's face. Angelo crouched down with their hands over their head to protect himself, and the ball ricocheted off some sort of force field, and sent it zigzagging away into the air -- it zoomed around their heads and then shot at Flint, who dived on top of it and managed to pin it to the ground.

"Woah." Flint panted, forcing the struggling Bludger back into the crate and strapping it down safely. "The Bludgers rocket around, trying to knock players off their brooms. That's why you have two Beaters on each team, it's their job to protect their side from the Bludgers and try and knock them toward the other team. So -- think you've got all that?"

"Three Chasers try and score with the Quaffle; the Keeper guards the goal posts; the Beaters keep the Bludgers away from their team," Angelo reeled off.

"Very good," said Wood. “But I need to ask you, did you just use a shield charm?”

“Are those what they’re called?” Angelo asked.

“Yes and many ministry officials can’t perform one! And you did in with out a wand! That’s- I’ll have you talk to Snape.”

"Er -- have the Bludgers ever killed anyone?" Angelo asked, hoping they sounded offhand.

"Never at Hogwarts. We've had a couple of broken jaws but nothing worse than that. Now, the last member of the team is the Seeker. That's you. And you don't have to worry about the Quaffle or the Bludgers--"

"-- unless they crack my head open."

"Don't worry, Percy himself is more than a match for the Bludgers."

Flint reached into the crate and took out the fourth and last ball. Compared with the Quaffle and the Bludgers, it was tiny, about the size of a large walnut. It was bright gold and had little fluttering silver wings.

"This," said Flint, "is the Golden Snitch, and it's the most important ball of the lot. It's very hard to catch because it's so fast and difficult to see. It's the Seeker's job to catch it. You've got to weave in and out of the Chasers, Beaters, Bludgers, and Quaffle to get it before the other team's Seeker, because whichever Seeker catches the Snitch wins his team an extra hundred and fifty points, so they nearly always win. That's why Seekers get fouled so much. A game of Quidditch only ends when the Snitch is caught, so it can go on for ages -- I think the record is three months, they had to keep bringing on substitutes so the players could get some sleep.”

"Well, that's it, any questions?"

Angelo shook their head. They understood what he had to do all right, it was doing it that was going to be the problem.

"We won't practice with the Snitch yet," said Flint, carefully shutting it back inside the crate, "it's too dark, we might lose it. Let's try you out with a few of these."

He pulled a bag of ordinary golf balls out of his pocket and a few minutes later, he and Angelo were up in the air, Wood throwing the golf balls as hard as he could in every direction for Angelo to catch.

Angelo didn't miss a single one, and Flint was delighted. After half an hour, night had really fallen and they couldn't carry on.

"That Quidditch Cup'll have our name on it this year," said Flint happily as they trudged back up to the castle.

Perhaps it was because they were now so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all his homework, but Angelo could hardly believe it when they realized that he'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Their lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they all had mastered the basics.

On Halloween morning they woke to the delicious smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class into pairs to practice. Angelo’s partner was Valentina Lestrange. Andy and Malachite, however, was to be working with each other.

"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

Angelo found that this came rather naturally, however Valentina seemed to see otherwise.

“Why isn’t my wrist so flexible? Angelo, how are you doing that?”

Angelo blinked a few times before breaking it down. “Start with the swish, it’s just a half circle. Then flick is just a- a flick...” Angelo mumbled. “Then the incantation. Make the ‘gar’ long.”

Angelo shifted in their seat, before swishing their wand and reciting; "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Mr. Potter's done it!"

Angelo cringed a bit, before rationalizing themself. There wasn’t any gender neutral honorifics that were commonly used. Still, it hurt.

Walking to potions, their last class of the day, Hermione Granger popped up. “Today, in charms we were doing levitation spells. I was the only one who could cast one.”

“Good for you.”

“Well, I suppose that you did it first, considering that instead of praising me, Flitwick simply compared me to you. I’m rather upset by it, after all, I wouldn’t want to be compared with some Slytherin... thing.”

Angelo paused. ‘Thing.’ She had just called them a ‘thing.’ They turned to Hermione. “Dont do that.”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyways, do you think you could tone it down some? An it like yourself doesn’t deserve to compete against me. You see, I’m from a Muggle family, and it’s quite an accomplishment for me to be this far ahead, but I don’t get any recognition because you’re stealing away all the spotlight. So, let me be at the top of our year, you’re already so famous.”

“And what would I get out of that? You see, I’m gonna ignore the fact that you think of me more as an ‘it’ and not a person. But what I won’t ignore, is the fact that you want me to tone down my academic achievement for who? A lowly Gryffindor such as yourself.”

Angelo paused to put up a finger, shutting Hermione up. People had stopped to stare. Angelo’s hair started to bright red, and spiky. After breath Angelo started up again.

“You see, I’m famous for having two things. Having a scar, and having two dead parents. And so what if you have muggle parents? I grew up with muggles! I didn’t have anyone to teach me! So if you really wanna be better than Angelo Potter, work for it. Be glad that at the end of the day, you have two loving parents, a good home life, and aren’t discriminated against on a daily basis, you nightmare! And _honesty,_ What did you thing would come out of this talk? Granger I liked you. I dont know how you could be so _cruel_ to someone you've never met. _You are a monster from hell, aren't you?_ ”

Angelo sped away from her, heart-broken, yet they refused to show it. 

Hermione didn't turn up for the next class and wasn't seen all afternoon. On their way down to the Great Hall for the Halloween feast, Angelo overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione was crying in the girls' bathroom and wanted to be left alone.

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins stutter. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Angelo was just helping themself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll -- in the dungeons -- thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

There was an uproar. It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Professor Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

“Our common room in the dungeons!” Percy Weasley stressed to Dumbledore.

“Oh. Then stay here.” Dumbledore says, before exiting the great hall.

"How could a troll get in?" Angelo asked.

"Someone had to have let it in, they're supposed to be really stupid," said Malachite. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke?”

When they heard a roar, Angelo jumped into Malachite’s arms. “Don’t worry, the prefects and Snape have all the great hall entrances covered.” Malachite said, holding Angelo tight against his chest.

Almost 30 minutes later, well after the Slytherins finished their dinners in the great hall, Professor McGonagall wadded into the great hall, looking very pale. “Some Gryffindor first years took care of the troll. You can all go to your common room.”

In their dorm, Malachite opened his trunk. “You can join me, but the animals don’t need feeding.”

Angelo tilted their head. “Then why ask me?”

“You get calmed down with them, right? So come join me.” With that Malachite stepped into the trunk as Angelo followed behind. Malachite disregarded his own uncomfortableness with touch to cradle Angelo as tears started to well up in their eyes.

“C-can I tell you what happened today? Can I vent to you?”

“Go ahead.” Malachite said, worry welling up in his belly.

The first few tears started to spill from Angelo’s eyes. “S-so everything was fine up until I was walking to potions, and Hermione Granger called me an it, and a thing, and she also told me to stop acting so smart so she could be at the top of our class, so I got angry and yelled at her. It took me so long to be comfortable with being genderfluid and I thought ‘ogwarts was going to be accepting but that- that- she-!” Angelo started to bawl in Malachite’s arms as intense green eyes grew with worry. Malachite gently pulled Angelo’s head to his chest.

When Angelo had cried all their tears and then some, they were exhausted. Malachite noticed this before moving them both to a warm spot of ground to sleep on, before wrapping his arms around them and falling asleep as well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s another original, Angelo uses They/Them again, and They get in trouble.

Malachite crept out of the trunk in the morning. He was glad that today was a Saturday, he didn’t want to wake the small boy- girl? Neither? He’d ask once Angelo woke up. (Although, most of the time they did identify with their assigned gender.) Going out to the common room, Andrionka way sitting on the couch, reading her Herbology book.

“Andy, can I speak to you about something?” Her head snapped up before closing her book.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Angelo... Did they tell you what happened yesterday? While they were walking to potions?”

“No? What happened?”

Malachite sighed. He knew he really shouldn’t be telling anyone about what happened, especially without Angelo’s knowledge, but Andy needed to know. She could do something, right?

“Granger... She called Angelo... a thing and told them to stop being so-“

“She did WHAT!? Hold on, hold on I need to find out how to use an unforgivable-“

“Andy wait! If you go to Azkaban Angelo will be even sadder! Plus we’re only 11 so I doubt you could use one anyways...”

“Yeah you’re right, but I’m still gonna make her life a living hell. Anyways what else did she say?”

“She told them to stop being so smart so she could get top grades.”

“We should embarrass her.”

“But how?”

“We can always expose her!” Andy proclaimed, rather excitedly. She clapped a few times. 

“I appreciate your support, but drop it.” Andrionka and Malachite spun around to see a very tired Angelo, in a soft blue hoodie and dark grey sweat pants.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Andy mumbled to herself. “Angelo we need her to know that she can’t just disrespect you like that! She needs to be put back in her place.”

“I know, but we could just tell a teacher... they’re all very supportive of me right?” They played with their sleeves a bit. “And I kinda feel like Angelica right now... But, you know, not fully? I don’t know, you can still use they right now. Wait no, Angelica doesn’t feel complete either...” They passed into a mumbling fit trying to figure out their gender and pronouns for a moment before their eyes snapped up again.

“Yeah I think Angel works, and they/them too... but y’ know anything’s good right now.” Their appearance had changed a bit. Their hair had turned shoulder length with its tips fading to black. Green eyes had hazel flecks across them, much like those cute freckles. 

“I’m going to show her up. Anyways, I’ve gotta get dressed for breakfast,” and with that, they walked away.

“I should too...” Malachite said before standing up and walking away, following Angelo.

When they emerged from their room Angelo was pristinely dressed in a white button-up shirt, black jean shorts, a dark blue cloak, mix-matched socks (blue and white) and black high topped sneakers. Malachite wore a navy blue turtleneck, dark gray corduroys, a Slytherin necklace and dragon hide heeled ankle boots.

“Alright, we can't let her see how much her words hurt!” He whispered to both Malachite and Belindra. “Anyways y’know I’m like hungry? So yeah let’s go eat!” Belinda draped herself around Angelo’s neck

When the group of crows neared the great hall, Valentina mumbled to the group, ”Ok, don't look but problem at 10 o'clock.” 

”What kind of problem? Is it a scar problem, hair problem or teeth problem?” Angelo asked.

”All three.” 

”Ignore them until they say something.” Draco mumbled back.

Sure enough, the Trio trailed up onto the group of crows. “A Potter in Slytherin? What’s next, It’s a passel tongue?” Ron mocked. Belindra seemed to perk up at that. 

“Yeah Angelo, you’re a nobody!” Said Harry. Angelo flinched away before a snark pressed on his face and Belindra tightened her hold on Angelo’s neck.

“What did you say about them?” she hissed.

Angelo placed both hands on Belindra's sleek body before hissing, ”if you keep that up, you're gonna strangle me!” she forced herself to relax around her snakeling’s throat, however this did not stop her from thumping her tail on Angelo’s chest. 

“How dare you say that about them? Do you have any idea of how horrible it is to say that about someone from a pureblood house?” Valentina asked, voice dripping with malice.

Angelo had to force their anger down, placing a mask back onto their face. “Is that your best insult, brother?” They snarled out the last word. “Ha! You’re more pathetic than I thought. You may be the older brother, but I am by far the smarter. You’re just the dirt under my foot!” They said before walking off to the Great Hall.

At least, that’s what they would have done if Weasley didn’t slap them. Angelo looked dazed for a moment, before noticing McGonagall walking towards them. “Professor!” Angelo callee out, rubbing their cheek. “Weasley just slapped me!”

McGonagall grabbed Ron by the ear. “What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, voice hard.

“H-he started it!” Ron stammered. “He called Harry a rat!”

“I did not!” Angelo protested. 

“Yes you did!” 

“And you called me an it!”

“Enough from both of you!” The professor yelled. “Go eat breakfast and we’ll settle this afterwards!”

Angelo sat down on the bench of the table in the Great Hall. “Oh dear Lady Diana, please help me make a case today!” They prayed, lips trembling. Angelo didn’t want to lose any house points or get detention for that matter, heart beating fast.

They fiddled with their cloak strings as they sat in McGonagall’s office, praying to as many gods and goddesses as they could that McGonagall would believe them.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turns out the golden trio has quite a bit against Angelo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one came out late, I didn’t know what to write...

“I’d like to hear Angelo’s perspective first.” Their eyes snapped up from their hands, that were neatly folded in their lap. 

”But professor he started it-”

”That is enough, Ronald Weasley. Also, Angelo dear, what pronouns are you using at the moment?”

”O-oh! It's They/Them, but I understand if you wanna use He/Him.”

”Alright, now explain what happened.”

”Right, of course, ma’am! So I was walking to the Great Hall when Weasely mocked me, and then Harry joined in... I- I may have said something back. Then when I tried to walk away he slapped me.”

”And Mr.Weasley?”

”Well first off, your little death eater girlfriend also insulted me! Not to mention the fact that you called Harry worthless!”

”No I didn't! And you can't just call people death eaters! All Valentina said was that it's mean to insult someone!”

”Oh really? You didn't insult him? Then what did you say?” Snarled Ron.

“I told him to stop treating me so horribly just because I got into Slytherin or else I’d treat him like dirt! And Valentina isn’t my girlfriend! She’s like my sister!”

“Enough, both of you!” Both of their heads snapped to McGonagall. “It’s clear from the way you are both acting and the story I’ve gathered, that Angelo hasn’t done much to anything wrong. Ron you will be getting Detention. 50 points from Gryffindor.”

“But Professor-“

“Should I take away more?” Ron shook his head. “Good. Now Angelo you can go, I need to discuss some things with Weasley.” Angelo nodded and speed walked out of her office. They hissed the password at the wall, and made a beeline for their room.

“Angelo!” Dammit. They turned around wide eyed. “How did it go? Do you have detention?” Valentina asked, concerned.

Angelo swallowed back their fear and croaked out; “I don’t have any consequences.” Valentina nodded and sighed.

“Good! I thought you’d get in trouble for nothing!” Angelo shook their head before waving off slightly and walking back to their dorm. They took their shoes off, washed their hands and then chucked them self into their bed. 

“Sorry, I’m a bit more than tired today so I’m not leaving. Feel free to bother anyone else.” His Familiar slithered up to lay on their stomach before hissing back.

“I’m just gonna relax here with you snakeling.”

Angelo yawned again before closing their eyes and starting to drift off into dreamland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh I’m sorry it’s so short writers block. Anyways the next chapter is joining back onto the normal timeline (aka unoriginal)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quidditch and Ron is a troublemaker again!

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. 

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Angelo would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Slytherin won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Angelo play because Flint had decided that, as their secret weapon, Angelo should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Angelo didn't know which was worse -- people telling him he'd be brilliant or people telling him they'd be running around underneath him holding a mattress.

Angelo learned that there were seven hundred ways of committing a Quidditch foul and that all of them had happened during a World Cup match in 1473; that Seekers were usually the smallest and fastest players, and that most serious Quidditch accidents seemed to happen to them; that although people rarely died playing Quidditch, referees had been known to vanish and turn up months later in the Sahara Desert.

Angelo went to bed with his head buzzing with the same question. He couldn't sleep. He tried to empty his mind -- he needed to sleep, he had to, he had his first Quidditch match in a few hours for the gods’ sake, but the possibility of him getting seriously maimed didn’t help. Even going to help talk care of him and Malachite’s (Malachite had insisted on calling them both of their animals. ‘You take care of them as well!’) animals couldn’t have him rest.

The next morning dawn was very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast."

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," begged Valentina.

"I'm not hungry."

Angelo felt terrible. In an hour's time, he'd be walking onto the field.

"Angie, you need your strength," said Andrionka. "Seekers are always the ones who get clonked by the other team."

"Thanks, Andy," said Angelo. “Really needed that reminder.”

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

All of the self-proclaimed ‘Murder of Crows’ were in the East fan up in the top row. As a surprise for Angelo, they had painted a large banner. It said Potter Rules, and Valentina, who was good at drawing, had done a large Slytherin snake underneath. Malachite was holding Belindra up to see the game.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Angelo and the rest of the team were changing into their Emerald Quidditch robes (Gryffindor would be playing in red).

Flint cleared his throat for silence.  
"Okay, everyone," he said. "This is it. We're going to win. I know it."

He glared at them all as if to say, "Or else."

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Angelo followed the beaters out of the locker room and, hoping his knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field too loud cheers.

Madam Hooch was refereeing. She stood in the middle of the field waiting for the two teams, her broom in her hand.

"Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you," she said, once they were all gathered around her. Angelo noticed that she seemed to be speaking particularly to the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, their sixth-year prefect. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fluttering banner high above, flashing Potter Rules over the crowd. His heart skipped. He felt braver.

"Mount your brooms, please."

Angelo clambered onto his Nimbus Two Thousand.

Madam Hooch gave a loud blast on her silver whistle.

Fifteen brooms rose up, high, high into the air. They were off. "And the Quaffle is taken immediately by Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor -- what an excellent Chaser that girl is, and rather attractive, too --"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

The Weasley twins' friend, Lee Jordan, was doing the commentary for the match, closely watched by Professor McGonagall.

"And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve -- back to Johnson and -- no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes -- Flint flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc- no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle -- that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and -- OUCH -- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger -- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger -- sent his way by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which -- nice play by the Gryffindor Beater, anyway, and Johnson back in possession of the Quaffle, a clear field ahead and off she goes -- she's really flying -- dodges a speeding Bludger -- the goal posts are ahead -- come on, now, Angelina -- Keeper Flint dives -- misses -- GRYFFINDORS SCORE!”

Gryffindor cheers filled the cold air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins.

Way up above them, Angelo was gliding over the game, squinting about for some sign of the Snitch. This was part of his and Flint's game plan.

"Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch," Flint had said. "We don't want you attacked before you have to be."  
Lflash of gold, but it was just a reflection from one of the Weasleys' wristwatches, and once a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannonball than anything, but Angelo dodged it and Fred Weasley came chasing after it.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee Jordan was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and Chaser Bell, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too busy looking over his shoulder at the flash of gold that had passed his left ear.

Angelo saw it. In a great rush of excitement, he dived downward after the streak of gold. Gryffindor Seeker Terence Higgs had seen it, too. Neck and neck they hurtled toward the Snitch -all the Chasers seemed to have forgotten what they were supposed to be doing as they hung in midair to watch.

Angelo was faster than Higgs— he could see the little round ball, wings fluttering, darting up ahead— he put on an extra spurt of speed—

"I've got the Snitch!" he shouted, waving it above his head, and the game ended in complete awe. Slytherin had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

“Oh, Potter, you were truly made for this.” Angelo whipped around. Ronald Weasley.

“What do you want Weasley?”

“I wanted to repay you for your little... Stunt. Trying to get me and Harry expelled has consequences.” He backed Angelo into a corner and pulled out his wand.

“What are you gonna do Weasley? Rictumsempra me?” Asked Angelo, trying to hold onto what pride he had. Weasley put his wand away.

“Well, I cant curse you so I’ll just do this—!” He grabbed Angelo’s throat. Panic rose in his chest as he scratched at Weasley’s hands.

“Ronald Weasley!” Finally, Percy Weasley, his saviour, had stormed out of the locker room and pulled Ron away. Angelo slipped down to the floor.

“Twenty— no! Fifty points from Gryffindor and a meeting with both of our heads of houses, this is completely unacceptable! You’ll get detention until the day you graduate— unless we decide to kick you out! Angelo dear are you alright?” His tone changed drastically.

Angelo nodded. He pulled himself up to follow behind Percy. He asked another two prefects to grab Snape and McGonagall for a conference.

“Weasley, it better be important if you had to get two teachers. What is it?”

“Professor, Ronald Weasley here tried to strangle our Slytherin seeker Angelo Potter here.” Snape’s face twitched before looking over to McGonagall.

“No I didn’t! You don’t even have proof I did anything!” Weasley countered. This was the wrong thing to say.

Angelo burst into tears and the teachers decided their verdict. Detention until the end of this year and one hundred fifty points from Gryffindor.

Percy Weasley accompanied Angelo back to the common room where Angelo’s friends were gathered. Valentina and Draco almost tackled him in bone-crushing hugs, and the Crows had flocked around him. 

“That was amazing!” Valentina cried. “You ended the game so fast! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“Yeah, you could go to the big leagues with skill like yours!” Draco added.

Belindra climbed up onto his neck. “Yessss... Snakeling. You were amazing.” Angelo blinked as Belindra slithered her way into his shirt. “Though, I ssssee your... pain.”

“Where were you? You missed the after-party!” Andy said.

“Oh... Snape wanted to talk to me and when I was walking back Percy was going the same way so we walked together.” Angelo lied through his teeth. 

“Well, that’s ok! I had to feed the animals myself but that’s ok because after that win you deserved a break.” Said Malachite, slightly rocking from foot to foot.

After the mini party, Angelo washed his hands and collapsed onto his bed. Belindra slithered out and relaxed next to Angelo. “Sssnakeling? Are you awake?”

Angelo groaned. “Trynna sleep.” Belindra shut up and curled up close to Angelo to get warm. His eyes fluttered one last time over emerald green eyes and shut with sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this doesn’t really follow Angelo, which is why it was so weird for me to write, but enjoy!

I clapped my hands twice before walking up to Cassiopeia at the Hufflepuff table, dropping down next to her. 

“Janus! So glad you could join us this week! You normally skip out on this.” Isabel commented, the sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Isabel. You know why I couldn't make it last time.” She rolled her eyes before picking up her fork and digging into her food. 

“Oh. Well we should do our charms homework, right?” Cassiopeia asked. “Gods know how terrible I am at it. I’m much better at flying and transfig.”

“We know Io, we’ve heard you brag about how good you are at transfiguration when you can’t even do a simple alohomora.” I said, a snide comment slipping from my mouth before I could catch it. “Of course, you’d be a great chaser.” I said before flicking my hand.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes before changing the subject. “Well you’re in Slytherin with one of the Potters. I’ve heard about how close-knit you all are. Are you friends with him yet?”

“Oh. Well I never really made a huge effort… Hear me out! I’ve only seen him around and I don’t talk to him much, but that’s just because well… he doesn’t really seem like a person I’d like. He’s not mean or anything! Just… Boring.”

My sister blinked at me. “What? No way! I see you hanging out with Lestrange and Malfoy all the time! And he’s always with them, like they’re his bodyguards!” 

“Well yes.” I mumbled, answering Cassiopeia. “I’ve seen him hide behind them many times before. It’s made me think less of him honestly.”

“Less of a POTTER?! The one who banished you-know-who?! I think you’re just bloody insane.”

“Language Cassy.” Isabel reminded.

“Whatever.” She retorted.

“Yeah well... I just don’t really hang out with other Slytherins. I just chill with you guys.” I sighed before shaking his head. “Alright, charms homework!”

Returning to the Slytherin common room, I sat down at a table. Unfortunately, dinner didn’t have enough time to finish the ridiculous amount of homework that had piled up. 

Someone tapped on my shoulder as I turned my head over to look and yawned. “Theo? What’s up?”

He sighed. “You fell asleep in the common room... Again. Look, Do you need help with your homework, cause I can do some for yo-“

“No, no, that’s fine. I should do it so that I can learn.” 

Theo sighed again. “If you need anything I’ll be in our dorm, don’t be afraid to ask, Kay?”

“I know Theo, I know.” I answered. Nott started to walk away before I stopped him. “Hey Theo?”

“Yeah?”

“I really appreciate it. Thanks mate.”

“No problem, can’t let you damage your rep.”

I nodded with a smile before finishing my homework with a renewed vigor.


	15. Update 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Errr... Yeah

Hi everyone! It’s the Sleepy Duke here, Sorry that there’s not gonna be a chapter on the 15. I just need some more time to work on the 15th chapter, but I can guarantee that there will be a chapter on the last day of September like usual. As soon as I finish, it’s going up I swear on my tarot deck. This time Im going to take some time to talk about myself in a get to know you! First off I am SleepyPandaDuke (fell free to nickname me anything) and I use he/him pronouns. I am 13 and my favorite subject is Orchestra, where I am a 2nd chair Violin! My hobbies include writing, drawing and cosplaying, as a result my left hands nails are now red. (Nagito cosplay) I also like Danganronpa, and I am thinking of writing a requests book on my other pseudonym: @APandaWithTaste . Anyways that’s all, have a nice day and support blm.


	16. Hi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Intense sweating*

Hahaha that feeling when you havent updated for 5 months, Anyways, I swear this book is gonna keep going on, just let me build chapter 14 and 15 and then we'll talk. For 4 months? I keep falling in and out of this fandom, and I am _sorry._ Anyways, go drink some water. Love you all. Goodnight, may your morning be bright and your day be plentiful.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to comment, I’d love to hear feedback!


End file.
